


Landing Home

by You_Light_The_Sky



Category: Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Complicated Relationships with Parents, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Flight attendant AU, Fluff, Happy Ending, Long Distance Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25061350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/You_Light_The_Sky/pseuds/You_Light_The_Sky
Summary: Tifa is a flight attendant who helps a handsome passenger with his air sickness. Little did she know she’d meet the boy from her childhood again… COMPLETE.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife
Comments: 201
Kudos: 317





	1. home is somewhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guardianbunnie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianbunnie/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a oneshot. Ahahahah (lies on the floor.) Updates will happen every 1 - 3 days. Afterwards, I will resume work on Meteor Seeds.
> 
> In this AU, a variety of final fantasy worlds are used as continents (e.g. Spira, Gaia, Gran Pulse) because I didn't want to deal with our world's equivalents. Nibelheim was a town that has become a small city.
> 
> For guardianbunnie, who is one of the sweetest people ever and just so kind and talented. thank you :)

Tifa’s last shift for the month, on a flight back to Nibelheim, starts off with her having to help clean up after three passengers who had unfortunate reactions to the plane food. If she never has to see another bit of vomit against the seats again, she’ll be glad. But alas, this is what she signed up for.

She loves her job, really, she does. She wouldn’t have bothered sitting through school to be a flight attendant if she didn’t enjoy it. But after so many days of working and sleeping in hotel beds, she just wants to curl up against her duvet and cuddle with her giant chocobo plushie. Maybe sleep for the whole day or more.

Aerith sends Tifa a smile and an encouraging wink when Tifa passes her at the back to fetch a passenger some coffee. If Tifa ever quits her job (which she won’t, she loves her co-workers too much to leave them,) she’ll be a great barista or bartender. Her hands don’t shake at all as the plane trembles slightly in the air and she pours out the perfect cup of coffee (well, perfect for what Highwind Airlines provides.)

“It’s always the trip back home that has the worst passengers, don’t you think?” Aerith whispers to her, getting out a bottle of wine for a guest in First Class.

“I still can’t tell if they’re actually the worst or if we’re just so grumpy that everyone seems the worst,” Tifa smiles. “We should have become pilots. Barret and Cid never have to deal with bad passengers. They just have to keep us flying.”

“Hey, as soon as you sign up, I’ll follow. Though honestly, I bet I’d fall asleep at the wheel and you’d have to do the flying.”

“Oh no, I can barely keep a video game car on the road. I’d fly us in circles. Cid makes it look easy.”

Sharing another laugh, they both quickly return to their passengers with their orders and begin checking the aisles for any messes again. Soon Tifa and Aerith will meet up with Nanaki to begin heating up lunches and passing out trays. Just six more hours to go…

Tifa walks past row 33 of the plane when a passenger waves at her from his seat. He’s tall and muscular, his body crammed into the little aisle seat, but he shows no signs of discomfort, just a radiant smile to accompany his spiky black hair. As Tifa comes closer, she notices that his leg is wrapped up in a cast. “Hey, sorry to bother you. I’m just worried about my buddy… He went to the washroom a while ago, like… maybe an hour ago? And he hasn’t returned yet. He gets _really_ airsick, and it’s been… ages since he’s been on a plane.”

“Oh!” Tifa nods, surprised that she, Aerith, and Nanaki hadn’t noticed yet. They try to check on the bathrooms when they can to make sure passengers aren’t doing anything suspicious in there or blocking bathroom traffic. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll go check on him.” Or hopefully get Nanaki to do it. Tifa always finds it awkward checking on men locked up in the plane bathrooms.

His smile turns relieved. “Thanks a bunch! Sorry for the trouble. I’d go check on him myself but… well… my crutches are stored up top and…” He gestures to his cast.

“It’s no trouble at all!” Tifa assures him. “I’ll go see if he’s alright. What’s his name?”

“Cloud! Cloud Strife. And I’m Zack. _Thank you_ , you’re an angel, really.”

Tifa shakes away the comment, embarrassed at such praise. “I’m only doing my job…”

“Really, thank you.”

After another round of the ‘thank you’ conversation circle, Tifa manages to tear away from that conversation to look for Cloud Strife. The name feels familiar to her, like a forgotten tune from her primary school days but she can’t seem to muster up a face. It’s… hazy… Maybe, she saw him once? In Nibelheim? Their town used to be pretty small… If this Cloud Strife and Zack are flying to Nibelheim of all places, then maybe they were locals once. Maybe Tifa heard his name in passing, the way students would whisper about older students like they were gods when really they were just children too.

As Tifa makes her way to the bathrooms, a businessman tapping his foot impatiently brightens when he sees her. “Finally!” the man throws his hands up. “Miss, this bathroom has been occupied for the past fifteen minutes, and the _other_ bathroom is for women so I—”

“Yes, I’ve been informed of the situation. I apologize for the inconvenience. The bathrooms past Aisle 50 are available. I’ll take care of this,” Tifa says kindly, hoping that this passenger will be one of the patient ones.

Luckily, he seems to be (or he’s eager to go to the bathroom), as he nods hastily and rushes down the aisle. Tifa sighs in relief, wondering if she can spot Nanaki to come help this Cloud Strife. She spots Nanaki further up the plane, dealing with a grumpy passenger and trying to explain to her that, no, they do not serve pizza on Highwind Airlines, and that he’s so sorry that other Airlines do, but Nanaki can’t just magic a pizza out of nowhere onto the plane… Ah, Tifa hopes Aerith can come help Nanaki out.

Looks like she’ll have to take care of Cloud Strife herself.

Hesitantly, she knocks on the bathroom door. “Excuse me?” she says politely, “Is this Cloud Strife? Your friend Zack is worried about you… he says you’ve been in there for at least an hour…”

No answer, at least none that Tifa can hear yet. She stands a little closer, puts her ear against the door, hoping that there’s some sign that this Mr. Strife is still alive. Tuning out the sounds of passengers talking to each other and the clink of spoons against coffee cups, she thinks she can make out a faint breath. Wheezing over and over, as if there’s not enough air.

Alarm fills Tifa, but she doesn’t let herself outwardly panic.

“Sir?” she lowers her voice, the way she would if she were talking to Marlene and Denzel. “Are you having trouble breathing? Can you knock once for ‘yes’ and twice for ‘no’?”

A slight pause, as the wheezing shifts and then a single knock.

“Thank you for telling me,” Tifa says, pressing her hand against the door. “Just focus on my voice.” Her mind scrambles for the advice she learned for calming panicked passengers. “Breathe with me. Breathe in, one, two, three… and breathe out, one, two, three…” She pauses, listens to the sound of his wheezing growing softer, and repeats again for as long as he needs it.

She’s aware that other passengers are staring at her in curiosity, but Tifa doesn’t want to force open the door, doesn’t want to force this Cloud Strife to confront people yet when he’s not ready. She wants him to be able to ground himself first, find some anchor to hold onto, before he opens the door himself.

Luckily, Nanaki and Aerith have picked up on what Tifa is doing and are doing their best to redirect the passenger attention to the next mealtime. Tifa smiles at them in thanks, reminding herself to buy them dinner later.

Ages seem to pass but Tifa focuses on keeping her hand against the door, keeping her voice light and soothing, until she realizes that the wheezing has gone silent and that her legs ache from standing in one place for so long.

Her mouth has gone dry from her whispers, and she quietly murmurs, “Are you feeling better?”

Silence. Then another single knock.

“…Would you like to come out now? I can lead you to the back of the plane where you can sit down in our little kitchen area, get some water in you. You don’t have to go back to your seat until you feel ready,” Tifa adds, in case this man still feels self-conscious.

She waits a little longer for Mr. Strife to compose himself. A few more seconds pass before the bathroom door finally opens.

Tifa’s not sure what she was expecting Cloud Strife to look like but a taller muscular man with soft blond hair and hesitant eyes was not it. For a moment, she doesn’t speak, eyes wide as she stares up at Cloud Strife before she realizes that she _has_ seen him before, a long time ago.

“Cloud…” the name falls off her lips, like a forgotten prayer.

He stares at her, confused for a moment, before his eyes go wide and his cheeks blaze pink. “Tifa?!”

It’s _him_. It’s really him, the little boy who never responded to her invitations to play. The little boy who watched her and her friends from a distance. The little boy who saved her when she got caught up in a storm, and a tree fell on her body. The little boy who disappeared to become part of the military and never came back.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Tifa murmurs. She should have realized it from his name, but Tifa remembered the boy who saved her from his eyes rather than his name. “It’s been so long!” She glances down at the dog tags hanging around his neck. “Looks like you achieved your dream…”

“I…” he fumbles for words, likely still airsick. Tifa curses herself for forgetting.

“Here, let’s go to the back of the plane. I’ll get you some water and we can catch up,” she tells him, gently leading him down the aisle. It’s strange, having to lead this muscular soldier like a child. She never got to talk to Cloud very much when they were little, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Cloud always ran away from her and eventually, Tifa stopped. She knew when she wasn’t wanted.

It only made it more poignant when Cloud risked his life to save hers all those years ago.

Was he always this awkward? This withdrawn?

Her heart pounds in her ears. Why is she acting so awkward in turn? He’s just a passenger, someone she knew a long time ago, someone who didn’t pay her any attention even after he saved her life, someone who she was always drawn to even if they could never get closer.

She’s not a kid enough. She’s an adult. She can talk to him calmly, it’s fine.

They reach the back in no time. Like all airplane kitchens, there’s not a lot of space, everything crammed and compartmentalized together for maximized space, but there are little seats for employee breaks. Tifa leads Cloud to them and invites him to sit before she busies herself with getting him some water and a candy bar. Chocolate always makes Tifa better after a panic attack. It might not be wise to feed chocolate to someone with airsickness but it’s the thought that counts.

Anything to distract her from the eyes watching her. So many questions bubble in Tifa’s head. She wants to know what Cloud has been doing since he left Nibelheim, she wants to know if he remembered her. She wants to know if he comes back to Nibelheim often.

But no, that’s not as important as his wellbeing right now.

She spins around, water bottle and chocolate bar in hand, when she sees him still staring at her, wide-eyed, as if he doesn’t know if she’s real. He’s still looking pretty pale from the nausea, so Tifa hands him the water and chocolate before turning around and digging out a can of ginger soda for him too.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” the smile escapes her before she can stop it. “I want to.”

It’s the least she can do, she doesn’t say.

Cloud continues looking at her as if she’s something impossible and it makes her want to look away. Instead, she pushes the ginger soda into his palm.

“You should drink it,” she says quietly, “small sips.”

Blinking slowly at her, he nods, his gaze never leaving her as he opens the soda and dutifully takes a few sips. The quiet between them makes Tifa nervous, unsure of what to do with her hands and feet. Should she stay? Should she leave? Aerith and Nanaki would tell her if they needed her back, and the three of them have always held pride at how well they handle airsick passengers. She should do as she always does, start some small talk, see if Cloud is ready to return to his seat…

“So, um,” she starts just as Cloud says, “You look—”

“Oh,” they both say at the same time, “you go first.”

Cloud looks ready to bolt at the embarrassing timing, so visibly upset that Tifa laughs. The Cloud in her memories was always such a distant figure, someone she wasn’t able to reach. But this Cloud seems so human and nervous that she can’t help but smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just… sorry. We’re both botching this up, aren’t we? It’s nice to see you again, Cloud. It’s been a while.”

Lips still parted, Cloud begins to nod, ducking his head down. “Y-yeah. You look… you look good, Tifa.”

The earnest way he says that makes Tifa pause, a blush creeping on her face.

“Oh. You look good too, Cloud. You grew taller…”

He only nods.

“So… do you still live in Nibelheim?”

He shrugs. “Sort of. My mom does. And I never officially got a place of my own.” Quickly, he takes another swig of ginger soda, a longer one. “How about you?”

“Sort of,” she echoes his answer. “I’ve got my own place, but I’m always working so I’m rarely home for more than ten days at a time. Lots of shifts all at once and strange hours when you’re a flight attendant.”

He huffs, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips. “I get it. We don’t get the best hours in the army either…”

“Oh right,” Tifa latches onto this bit of information, “how long have you been in the army for? The last time I saw you, well…”

They were thirteen back then. Cloud had saved her, pulled her out from the wreckage of the storm. She thinks he was there with her at the hospital, but when she woke up and asked about the boy who saved her… well, her father told her nothing, and her classmates told her that Cloud had moved away to join the army.

Cloud looks away, his grip tightening around his soda and water bottle. “Over ten years…”

Tifa gapes at him. She remembers that Cloud was a year older than her. If he’s been in the army for over ten years, then he had to have enlisted since he was very young, at least fourteen years old. She doesn’t know if the answer strikes her as very sad or impressive. Perhaps both. People don’t join the army that young unless they’re desperate.

“…You must have worked hard,” she says instead, thinking of what he must have been through.

“Yeah, well,” Cloud shrugs again, his smile gone. “I’m just a glorified mechanic for artillery and tanks. Nothing as impressive as the guys who on the front lines, but it’s a job.”

“Are you kidding? That’s more impressive than the quick course I took to become a flight attendant. Do you know how difficult it is for me to figure out how to fix my rusty old car?” Tifa jokes. “I bet you’re the leader of your team, the head mechanic, but you don’t want to give yourself the credit. You seem pretty impressive to me, Mr. Strife.”

Once more, Cloud stares up at her, as if she’s done something amazing. Tifa doesn’t know what to do with that look.

“So! Um, I’m surprised you remember my name,” she tells him, “it’s been a decade since we last saw each other…”

“Well…” he suddenly meets her gaze intently and sincerely, “you’re pretty unforgettable.”

Her jaw drops, heat rushing through her entire being as her brain and her heart circle each other in panic. “Y-you… I…” There’s no way Cloud Strife, the boy who ignored her all their childhood, said that to her. No way. “I… I got to go… help my coworkers… You can… you can keep sitting there if you like, just go back to your seat before we land… So…. Bye…”

“Tifa, wait!” he grabs her hand before she can run away to do her job.

The sudden touch makes her chest hurt, the way it did when she was alone in that storm, thinking no one would find her.

“It’s just…” he bites his lip, “ _thank you_. For earlier. When I was in the bathroom. Airsick. It… wasn’t my best moment.”

Some wall that Tifa didn’t even know she had melts inside of her. She turns back to him, cupping his hand in turn. “Anytime,” she means it. “And just between you and me, being airsick isn’t anything to be ashamed about. When I first went on an airplane, to do my training, I spent three hours throwing up in the bathroom.”

Cloud’s jaw drops. “ _Really_. But you work—”

“Yeah,” Tifa laughs, “I work on airplanes now. I got so angry at myself for being airsick, I just forced myself to go on the plane again. It’s… kind of like going sailing. You just gotta get your sky legs… and a bit of airsickness pills to help with the vertigo.” She winks.

He frowns thoughtfully at her suggestion. “Sky legs… huh. That’s… pretty amazing, Tifa.” And somehow, Tifa knows that he means her effort, all the times she forced herself to face that plane despite her shaky legs and ill stomach, until she could walk along a flying plane with no problem at all.

“Yes, well…” she mumbles. “I just mean… given time… you won’t get airsick anymore.”

“What helped you in the end?”

“…Someone to focus on. An anchor,” Tifa smiles softly, thinking of all the times Aerith held back Tifa’s hair when she threw up in the bathroom for the hundredth time, of all the times Aerith steadied her before she could stumble against an aisle seat.

He nods slowly. “An anchor, huh. I think I get it.” He lets go of her hand, sitting back against the wall. “Thank you.”

She wants to linger, wants to ask him who he’s thinking of to ground him.

But she doesn’t think she’s allowed to hear the answer. What is she but a stranger from his past, after all? And… she _really_ has to get back to work.

“Keep those sky legs on, Cloud,” she says quietly, and she returns to her shift.

By the time Tifa thinks to ask him for his number, it’s too late. The plane has long since landed, and all the passengers have left, including Cloud and his friend Zack.

She tries not to be disappointed. Sometimes you just don’t meet the same people again. Sometimes, you never meet them again.


	2. home is lost memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter warnings: this chapter deals with complicated parental relationships... and dementia
> 
> Thank you everyone for the enthusiastic response, I got really emotional over it. Thank you!!

“You sure you’re feeling okay?” Aerith asks when Tifa drives her home that night. “You’re smiling that smile where you _want_ everyone to think you’re okay, but it’s not as radiant as your actual smile, so I’m not buying it.”

Tifa grimaces as she takes the final left turn to get onto Aerith’s street.

“See!? There! A frown!” Tifa doesn’t need to glance at Aerith to know that her friend is pointing at her face.

“Aerith, I’m just focusing on the road. Left turns make me nervous.” The gross splutter of her rusty engine agrees with her. She… really needs to get a new car.

“Sure, sure. And this has nothing to do with that handsome passenger you helped out today?”

“ _Aerith_ , no. He’s just… someone I knew once. He didn’t do anything to me.”

She can feel the smile-glower radiating from Aerith. “Are you sure? Because I can hack into the passenger list right now and find out who he was and then slap him for you.”

“You don’t even know how to hack!”

“I could pay someone to do it for me!”

Tifa laughs as she pulls up into Aerith’s driveway, a cozy little house that’s on the outskirts of Nibelheim, away from the bustle of the city. There’s even an abandoned church next door that Aerith likes to play flowers in.

“But seriously,” Aerith says when the car stops, “you’re going to be okay?”

This time, they both know she’s not talking about Cloud, but the things that Nibelheim brings.

Tifa tries not to think about those memories.

“Yeah,” she lies. “I’ll be fine. Going to spend day one of my break sleeping. I’ll only pop by the retirement home very briefly…”

Aerith narrows her eyes, knowing that Tifa never just spends a brief hour at the retirement home. “Don’t let him eat up all your time. This is meant to be your break from work. You have your own life outside of him and you don’t need to feel guilty over it.”

Tifa doubts that, but she doesn’t want to argue with Aerith over this. She only nods and opens her arms up for a goodbye hug. “See you at Barret’s barbeque on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Aerith squeezes her tight, “I need you to cook my share of the dumplings, because I have _no idea what I’m doing_.”

Tifa laughs. “You got it. I’ll be at your house on Friday bright and early to save you from cooking. Say hi to your mom for me.”

“Always. Text me when you get home!”

Then Tifa’s alone, like always.

:

The silence that envelopes Tifa’s little apartment is stale but all too familiar. She wishes she could get a fluffy cat to keep her company, but since she’s away for work for weeks at a time and doesn’t know anyone who isn’t allergic to cats… well… she can’t do that to an innocent soul. House cats deserve company and love.

As usual, when she comes home, she puts her bag against the couch and immediately changes into her pajamas. She lets herself stretch out and flop against her bed and her collection of giant plushies and just… sinks into the soft material like a shell returning to the bottom of the ocean. Her squishy pillows and soft plushies are comforting like warm hugs in the winter, helping her forget her troubles just a little while longer.

“Okay Lockhart,” she whispers to herself, “get some sleep, then jog a little in the morning, practice some piano, and get going to see your Dad. You’re ready. You’re prepared. You’ve got this.”

Her plush chocobo stares back at her, unconvinced, with its cute black eyes. Tifa groans and buries herself in its yellow feathers. Tomorrow. She’ll think of tomorrow… tomorrow.

:

The next day comes too soon in Tifa’s opinion. Not even her morning jog and strength building exercises can wake her up. After guzzling down some tea, she practices her usual set of piano before she packs up her books in her bags and hurriedly prepares some food into a packed lunch. She leaves her rusty car in the parking lot, prefering to walk to her destination and take in the fresh air.

Nibelheim used to be a larger town when Tifa was younger. But with more people migrating from Midgar to Nibelheim to settle down, her town expanded into a small city with a small airport of its own. Nibelheim still isn’t anything compared to Midgar, the downtown area of Nibelheim still feels like a small town with local shops and theaters and most of the city’s layout is dedicated to golf courses and cottages for retirement, but it’s large enough to have its own mall and larger festivals which Tifa always enjoys going to when she can book the time off.

The walk from her apartment to her destination isn’t too long—about twenty minutes—which gives Tifa time to return a few library books and pick up some holds. The layover between flights can get long if there’s any delays and Tifa does love a good book to curl up to.

She’s nearing the retirement home, Moonrise Homes, when she spots someone frowning at the street corner, staring up at the street signs in visible frustration.

Upon closer look, they appear male, with familiar spiky blonde hair and Tifa’s heart skips a beat.

“H-hey,” she says before she can stop herself, “Cloud?”

The figure spins around, eyes wide, and stare at her with that wonder again, that overwhelming wonder that makes Tifa want to shrink back or reach out or god knows what—but it’s him. Really him, dressed more comfortably in sweatpants and a hoodie, holding a bouquet of flowers, and a drawn-out map.

He blinks slowly, as if he needs time to take her in. “…Tifa?”

“Um, yeah.” She suddenly has the urge to look down at her shoes. But that would probably be rude. She gestures to his map. “Are you lost? Do you need any directions…?”

“Oh, uh,” Cloud stares at his map, as if just remembering it exists, “I… guess I do? I thought I’d be fine, but it’s been years since I’ve been back and… well…”

His nerves make Tifa relax. “That makes sense. Nibelheim’s changed a lot since you’ve been gone. We’ve got _four_ bowling alleys now, and I don’t even like to bowl.”

Cloud’s lips inch up again, and she counts it as a win.

“Alright, let’s see the map. Where are you headed?”

“Oh,” he needs to stop looking so lost when she talks to him, “I don’t want to take up your time—”

Tifa puts her hand on his arm and all his speech splutters to a stop. “I insist,” she says honestly, “it’s the least I can do.”

“I…” he swallows, before he nods. “My mom… Well, you know where we used to live,” Tifa nods. He used to live next door but with the way he avoided her, she sometimes forgot. “She hasn’t been doing so well, health-wise, so she decided to move to a Retirement Home, and she gave me the deed to the house, so I’ve been staying there with Zack, and I don’t know where the Retirement Home is. I should have come to visit sooner to help her move in, but I couldn’t book time off work until now, and the streets are different? Now? Maybe? _Why are the streets different—_ ”

“Okay, um,” Tifa squeezes his arm, in what she hopes is a soothing manner, and not anything off-putting. “What’s the Retirement Home called? Is it… Moonrise Homes?”

Cloud gapes down at her. “Yeah… how’d you know?”

She fights back a wince. “Well, it’s the only Retirement Home nearby… and my dad lives there too. I was just about to visit, actually.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” Tifa lets go of his arm, fiddling with the loose strands of her hair instead. “He… he wasn’t doing well… especially after the fire that almost burned down our neighbourhood… that’s probably why the streets look all different. Funny thing is, our house and yours were the only ones that survived.”

Cloud’s eyes go wide. “I am _so_ sorry, for bringing that up. I _thought_ the neighbourhood looked different, but I didn’t think, my mom never said—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Happened when I was seventeen. It’s been years and you didn’t know.” Tifa’s just glad that no one got hurt.

“ _Still_ , the park… the one you used to play at… is it still there?”

“I think it’s bowling alley number two actually.”

Cloud looks so offended that Tifa laughs. Her laughter seems to startle him, but she can’t help it. Here Cloud is, looking like he could be a stuntman in an action film… upset that their childhood park burned down seven years ago. It’s rather charming, an unexpected side that she wouldn’t have guessed from the brooding boy in her memories.

“If it helps, our school got turned into a hiking area?”

He pouts. “It’s not the same.”

No, she supposes it isn’t.

“It’s a nice hiking area. You should go sometime, when your friend’s leg gets better. What _happened_ to him, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh,” Cloud rolls his eyes, “training accident. He got a bit too excited about possible combat and fell. After my leave is done, he’s gonna take a bus to Gongaga and visit his parents. He’s just here to meet someone.”

“Well, I hope his leg heals up quickly! It’s sweet of you to offer him a place to stay.”

Cloud’s ears go pink. “He’d do the same.”

The awkward silence returns, and Tifa curses her luck.

“So!” she says brightly, “Since I’m heading there anyways, want me to guide you to Moonrise Homes?”

Relieved, Cloud nods yes.

:

Cloud insists on holding Tifa’s bag of books along the way. He’s so sincere about it that Tifa doesn’t have the heart to say no. It’s strange not to have the weight on her shoulders, nothing for her hands to fiddle with except her hair, but she can’t deny that it’s nice to have someone carry the weight for her… even for just a while.

They lapse into a more comfortable silence, both of them content to listen to the other’s steps and take in the noise of traffic. Every once in a while, Cloud’s elbow will bump into hers and vice versa, but Tifa doesn’t mind. Unlike the past, this Cloud feels comforting… like a real person instead of a distant star.

When they reach Moonrise Homes, a one-story building that looks more like a preschool than a Retirement Home, from the cheerfully painted bricks, Tifa stands at the gates and waits for him to return her bag.

Cloud merely looks at the building pensively, staring at the bouquet of yellow lilies in his hands.

Tifa wants to ask him what’s wrong but stops. From what Cloud’s told her, he hasn’t been back in Nibelheim in years… not even for holidays. Is this the first time he’s going to see his mother then? Has he only kept contact with her through phone calls and letters? And to see her now, in a Retirement Home, instead of his childhood home…

“Hey,” she says softly, lightly touching his elbow again.

Cloud’s eyes widen, looking pointedly at her hand.

“I know it’s not my business… and we don’t know each other that well… but, do you want me to come with you, to see your mother?”

The look of relieved wonder is something she doesn’t deserve. “Yes. Please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she tells him. If there’s anyone who understands what he’s feeling right now, it’s her.

She guides him towards the front lobby and the reception desk where they sign in. Then she leads Cloud to the room that the nurse assigned Mrs. Strife. Cloud’s stance grows more and more rigid the closer they get to Mrs. Strife’s room. He walks like a soldier now, off to battle, instead of the awkward man who didn’t seem to know where to go.

Tifa keeps her hand on his elbow, curling her fingers a little tighter in what she hopes is a comfort.

When they reach Mrs. Strife’s room, Cloud vibrates with tension.

“…Want me to knock?” she asks.

Cloud’s stance softens a little at her words. “No… I should… I should knock. I can knock.”

He raises his hand and does just that.

When the door finally opens, Tifa sees a tall older woman with rich laughter lines on her face that brighten when she sees Cloud. Her arms open, and her silvery blond hair glistens like starlight peeking through the sun.

“Cloud!” she pulls him into a firm embrace, despite her shaky arms and the metal walker in her way. “You’re back!”

Startled, Cloud’s hands pause in mid-air before he finally melts back in the embrace. “I’m back, Ma…”

Oh.

She didn’t know Cloud could look this content, this tender and peaceful. Her heart aches, and unbidden, tears form in her eyes. This moment isn’t for Tifa, but she’s glad she could see it… the tender reunion between mother and son.

But just as abruptly as the hug came, Mrs. Strife lifts her head up and latches her gaze towards Tifa. “Oh! Aren’t you the young lady that played the piano in the living area last month?”

Cloud lets go of his mother as Tifa stammers, “Ah, yes. I play here whenever I get the time off. The residents seem to like it… and Nurse Elena insisted.”

“Well, I’m glad of it! You play _beautifully_ , my dear. How do you two know each other?” Mrs. Strife asks, looking like a cat about to catch a canary.

“M-Ma!” Cloud goes red, “She’s _Tifa_.”

Mrs. Strife’s mouth falls into an ‘o.’ Then she grins. “Well, why didn’t you say so? Are those flowers for me, dear? Why don’t you give them to dear Tifa instead. I didn’t recognize you, Tifa, you’ve grown! Why, I remember when Cloud used to beg me to take him to the park just so he could—”

“ _Okay, Ma, that’s enough, Tifa’s busy, so let’s catch up inside so Tifa can get going_ ,” Cloud says quickly, herding his mother back into her room. Before he shuts the door, he mouths a quick, ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ which only makes Tifa laugh.

“Make sure to come visit me, dear, I have so many stories about Cloud!” Mrs. Strife hollers just as Cloud hurries to shut the door.

Tifa can’t help but smile after that. Mrs. Strife seems so sweet and lively, a fact that makes Tifa envious. Maybe she’ll take up Mrs. Strife’s offer and visit whenever she comes to see her father.

Maybe.

But first, she has to go see him.

:

Brian Lockhart lies still on the bed, staring at the wall even as the television blares in the background. The curtains haven’t been opened yet, leaving only a sliver of light to fall on his wrinkled lips and withered hands. Where Tifa remembered her father having strong arms to lift her in the air (when he had his good days), now he looks as if lifting his blanket up would be a struggle.

She can’t tell if today he’ll remember her or not. She’s not sure what will hurt more. On his bad days, even when he was healthy before all… all this… he’d been hard to be around.

Tifa shuffles into the room and tentatively sits by the bed. He still hasn’t looked at her. She takes in a deep breath, and carefully holds his hand. His skin, clammy to the touch, makes her remember all the days she found him collapsed on the couch from drink… and then the day he was collapsed because he couldn’t move.

She tries not to shiver.

Slowly, his gaze turns to her. His brow furrows. “Who… who are you?”

Ah. Why does it still hurt when this happens?

Tifa tells herself to smile. “It’s me. I’m here to bring you lunch. I brought your favourite sandwiches, just the way you like them.”

They study each other carefully, her father likely crafting the next narrative in his head, and Tifa doing her best to stay smiling.

“Hiroko?” his voice cracks, and Tifa makes sure her smile doesn’t falter.

“Yes,” she lies.

“Hiroko!” he smiles so lovingly, in a way he hasn’t smiled at Tifa in _years_ , even before this all began, that Tifa almost cries. “Oh, you’re back! I’ve been waiting for so long, you look so beautiful…”

“Yes… I… I came back.” Tifa always comes back.

“You won’t leave me again, will you? I hate this place. They don’t _look_ at me, it’s like I’m invisible. Tell me you’ll come back and take me away. I want to go _home_.”

“I know…” Tifa says quietly. “I want to go home too.”

“Then we’ll go?”

“Yes,” Tifa lies again, “we’ll go home tomorrow,” after he forgets, “but first you have to build up your strength. I bought your f-favourite.”

His hand turns up to curl their fingers again, his old strength returning. “Feed it to me?”

“…Of course.”

Tifa’s hands tremble as she feeds her father pieces of the lunch she made this morning. She’s learned by now to play along with whoever her father thinks he sees in this place. It’s too cruel… and _painful_ , to do otherwise.

And she hates that she prefers it when he thinks she’s her mother, instead of herself. At least then… he smiles at her.

:

The afternoon has long passed, but Tifa still hasn’t left her father’s side. She fed him and entertained him, listening to his commentary as he watched the news and reading him the latest chapter of her book. He’s always sharper when he thinks she’s Hiroko, her mother. His commentary on the latest Shinra Corporation mishaps are as quick-witted as they used to be and for a moment Tifa can pretend that Mama never died and that Papa never stopped smiling at her.

But by the late afternoon, Tifa knows she has to leave or she’ll start crying again. She’ll be back tomorrow as always, from the guilt of leaving her father here without any company, but she needs the break.

“I’ll be going then,” she resists the urge to call him ‘Papa,’ to give him the hint that this is all a charade to keep his sanity intact.

“And you’ll come back tomorrow, we’ll go home?”

Mouth dry and numb, Tifa says yes.

“Will you play the piano before you go, Hiroko? You know I love it when you play. I know you can’t move me to the living room by yourself,” It’s rare that her father has that awareness, “but I can still hear you play through the door…”

“Yeah…” Tifa agrees, hating how she’s secretly relieved that he doesn’t want to be rolled out to the living room to see her play in person. Sometimes her father’s agreeable around the other residents, but more times he just gets irate and angry at seeing so many ‘strangers’ in his ‘house.’ She wishes she owned an electric keyboard that she could carry around so she could give him a private concert, but she needs the money to pay for her father’s living expenses. “Of course. Anything for you.”

:

Outside of her father’s room is a spacious lobby where residents can sit in plush sofas or gather around the tables to play chess or boardgames. Tifa’s volunteered to help out with bingo nights when her days off match with the Home’s schedules. Other volunteers hold their own concerts—a few high school bands, some aspiring comedians, a local theater group…

The best thing about the living room area is the sleek grand piano in the center of the sofas, a donation from a rich benefactor to Moonrise Homes. Tifa nods at Nurse Elena, who quickly makes the announcement that Tifa is about to play to all available residents while Tifa sets up her books. She does a few warm-ups—vocally and with a few keyboard scales to re-familiarize herself with the keys. Even after nearly three weeks away from the piano, it sings under her fingers as a familiar friend.

Then Tifa closes her eyes, pretends her mother is there by her side, and dives into the first of her father’s favourite pieces… a lullaby from Wutai that Mama often sung to Tifa at night. The notes sing out softly, curling up into Tifa’s heart and melding with her pain.

_I may return to the stars, but never doubt that I love you._

_And when the heavens part, I will fall again, this my promise true._

The song continues, the echoes of a celestial maiden who was forced back into the heavens away from her true love, the promise to return to them, no matter the cost. Tifa loved that story as a child, and so did her father. He used to joke that Hiroko was that maiden, but that he hadn’t lost her yet, so the ending didn’t make sense.

They were so naïve back then.

Tifa continues playing, picking out other songs from Wutai and local Nibelheim ballads about lost love. Her mother always complained that Tifa never played happy songs and Tifa always replied that the sad songs were the prettiest, sad songs were the ones that moved her soul.

Even now, with all this pain in her heart, it’s still true.

By the time Tifa finished with her list of songs, exhausting every piece from her childhood, her fingers sting with numb glee, and the residents that have gathered in the living area to hear her have burst into applause.

She smiles at them all, bowing and hoping that her father heard everything she wanted to convey in her music, when she locks eyes with Cloud.

There he stands, his hand on his mother’s shoulder as she sits in one of the far-off armchairs. Mrs. Strife beams at Tifa, whistling in appreciation from the music. Cloud, on the other hand, looks at her the way he first did when they locked eyes on the plane… except with _more_.

But more what? Tifa doesn’t know.

All Tifa knows it that Cloud has a different flower in his hands, a white lily instead of a yellow one, possibly purchased from the little florist shop in Moonrise Home’s lobby, and that he’s striding up next to her, hand outstretched with that very flower.

Tifa stares at him and the flower in confusion.

“For you,” he says, the awkwardness from before gone… only this intense gaze, this… _something_. “You played _beautifully_.”

“Oh,” a hot blush hits her as she takes the flower. “How… how sweet. I… don’t know what to say.”

He shrugs. “It’s true. You’ve always played beautifully. Even when we were kids.”

She gapes up at him and he looks away, scratching his ear.

“I… used to listen through the window when you practiced. We _did_ live next door… and your piano was loud. Not that it’s a bad thing! It’s good. It’s… still good.”

“Ohmygosh,” Tifa doesn’t know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. “I didn’t think anyone was listening to my playing back then, it was _so bad_ , I messed up so many times, and I always kept playing my favourite jrpg themes over and over—”

Let the ground swallow her up please—

“I was listening,” Cloud says quietly, “and I thought it was beautiful. Truly.”

She stares up at him with wide eyes, an ache filling her chest, the need to know more and simultaneously the need to run away before his words touch her anymore.

“Can I get your number?” she blurts out instead.

When he stares back at her, as if she’s slipped into speaking her mother’s tongue, she almost takes it back when he quickly says, “Yes, sure, definitely!”

He pulls out his phone faster than Tifa’s seen anyone move before, the mobile nearly slipping from his fingers. “Um, here! Text me your number and I’ll text mine back.”

Before she can lose her nerve, Tifa takes the phone, careful not to brush against his fingers, and hastily types out her number. She waits in anticipation as Cloud nods, saving her contact information and begins texting her back.

A ping from phone informs her of his text.

 **Cloud:** _Hi, this is Cloud_.

Tifa smiles at him. “Thanks. It’ll be nice to catch up.” She quickly texts him a smiley face in response.

“Yeah… um, I might not text back all the time… I’m stationed at Wutai and it’s six hours ahead of Nibelheim time, and, well, I don’t always get time off so—”

She can’t help but smile, leaning into his space. “Cloud? It’s fine. Flight attendant, remember? I _completely_ get it. Don’t worry, I won’t be offended by what time you text me at. Sometimes my five am becomes a nine pm within three hours. I get it.”

Cloud’s lips inch up. “I don’t think that’s how math works with air travel.”

“Well, Mr. Mechanical Genius, you’ll have to teach me.”

“Yeah… maybe I will.” He glances back to his mother, who keeps winking at them for some reason. Cloud winces. “I gotta get back to Ma, but… you could have dinner with us, if you want?”

“I…” She really wants to. But Cloud and his mother haven’t seen each other in person in _years_ , and she wants to let them have that precious time to themselves. Besides, she’s still emotionally drained from dealing with her father. “I’d love to. Maybe next time. I’m… pretty tired still. Jet lag, you know?”

“Oh. Right.” His shoulders deflate. “Then. Next time.”

Her chest twists. “Cloud? I really do want to have dinner with you. A-and your mom, of course. But I really _am_ tired. I just got off my shift last night, you know.”

His gaze, if possible, softens even more. “I know. You work hard.” He hesitates, before he reaches out to brush a strand of her hair behind her ear, his finger lingering there. “Rest well, Tifa. See you hopefully soon.”

“Yeah…” she whispers to his retreating figure. “See you.”


	3. home is the right words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi have some rushed fluff. RIP me. bless everyone who commented and left kudos, i love you

“Tifa, I really don’t think I’m doing this right,” Aerith tells her for the fourth time that Friday morning, as they both begin to spoon pork filling into dumpling dough. The dumplings have to be folded carefully, with the right amount of pork filling, so they don’t explode. All of Aerith’s dumpling have either become a messy disaster or a clump of dough that can’t even be called a dumpling anymore.

“Here,” Tifa leans over, readjusting how much pork filling Aerith put into the dough. “Remember, you got to be balanced. Too much isn’t always the best.”

“But how do I _know_ , it all looks the same to me!” Aerith scrunches up her face. “See, like, this spoonful of pork filling looks the same to me as your spoon, and somehow it’s too much?”

Tifa fights back a smile. “Here,” she leans in, readjusting how much is in Aerith’s spoon. “Just try again. You’ll get it eventually. Maybe it’s better if you underfill them… better than exploding dumplings.”

“Yes, yes,” Aerith nods. “So how’s your week been? Your Dad treat you okay?”

She fights back the knot in her throat. “Yeah,” she keeps her voice level, “he was pleasant yesterday.”

Aerith pauses. “Yesterday? I thought you were only going to see him on Tuesday.”

“Well…”

“Tifa…” Aerith taps her foot impatiently. “Have you been visiting him every day?”

“Look, Aerith—”

“We talked about this. You don’t have to feel so guilty and visit him every day, especially when he doesn’t treat you well—”

“He does treat me well—”

“When he thinks you’re your mother! But when he knows it’s _you_ , the tables turn—”

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just… make dumplings and enjoy the barbeque today?” She doesn’t dare look up to see Aerith’s sympathetic face. She doesn’t think she could bear it.

Silently, Aerith puts down her spoon and nudges her hand over Tifa’s. “Alright. I’m sorry. I’ll… try not to bring it up. You know how I get when I think you’re being hurt.”

Tifa’s laugh hides the urge to cry. “Yeah, I remember. Isn’t it how we met?” Aerith had punched a six-foot tall man who wouldn’t back away from Tifa, and while Tifa could have handled it on her own, she had been flattered.

“Yup!” Aerith lifts her fist up mischievously, “All suitors for Miss Lockhart’s hand will have to go through me!”

Tifa can’t help but think of Cloud. “Right…”

Like a shark sniffling blood, Aerith latches onto Tifa’s hesitation. “Oh?! Unless you’ve already met someone…? Do I know him? Have I given him the shovel talk yet? Is it Rude?”

“What? No! Rude barely talks to me,” Tifa says. The man is always so silent around her that she’s sure she offended him somehow. “It’s just that passenger from earlier…”

Aerith points at Tifa accusingly. “I _knew_ he had the hots for you!”

“It’s not like that,” Tifa blushes. “I told you I knew him before, right? Well, I ran into him and got his number… That’s it. That’s all, nothing romantic. Just friends. Friendly friends.”

“Sure, sure… Then have you texted him yet?”

Tifa tries not to drop her next dumpling. “…Not exactly.”

“And _why_ not,” Aerith asks again, in that same sly tone.

“Because I don’t know what to say, I don’t have the right words! I don’t know, it’s been years since we talked and he wasn’t exactly my biggest fan back then… I don’t want him to think I’m… whatever it was about me that made him run away.”

Tifa squishes the dumpling a little too hard, the insides nearly peeking out.

“What?! He actually ran away from you?! If I met you when we were kids, I’d claim you as my best friend immediately. Where is this guy, I’ll throw him off a plane—”

“Aerith, no, it’s fine. Cloud’s a good person. Totally different then when he was younger,” Tifa says, thinking of his brooding face. Still, that didn’t stop her younger self from trying to approach him, intrigued by his quiet nature. “He’s kind,” she adds, thinking of the flower set up by her windowsill next to a tiny cat plushie.

“Wow,” Aerith stares at her.

Tifa wants to crawl under a table, cheeks flushing. “What?”

“Nothing. You’ve got it _bad_. No wonder you can’t text him. You’re overthinking it. Just be yourself. Don’t worry about the ‘right words’—you always say the right thing.”

“No, I don’t—”

“Yes you do,” Aerith insists. “You always do.”

The honest way that Aerith says this, along with her sincere gaze, makes Tifa look away, searching frantically for a subject change. She spots it when she realizes how Aerith has a large bouquet of flowers set up.

“Anyways,” she says hastily, “what’s with the flowers? Do you have another order from a customer?”

“Oh, no. Those are for my new boyfriend.”

“I’m sorry _what?!_ ”

:

After needling Aerith about this mysterious new boyfriend, who Aerith has been apparently messaging for months on a dating app, Aerith announces that Tifa will meet him at Barret’s barbeque.

“I already had my first date with him on Tuesday and he is very charming! And handsome! We’ve hung out together every day since, and I _really_ like him,” Aerith goes on, stars practically glittering in her eyes. Tifa’s never met any of Aerith’s dates before, the dates usually ending with Aerith dumping them if they don’t meet her standards. Whoever this mysterious man is, he must be something special for Aerith to approve of him.

“Okay…” Tifa decides to save her judgement for when she meets this boyfriend first. She’ll interrogate him later. No need to rain down on Aerith’s good mood.

With the dumplings packed and some cupcakes baked by three o’clock, they get ready to go to Barret’s place. Elmyra, Aerith’s mother, comes along too, often a trusted babysitter for Barret’s foster kids.

Tifa grabs her phone and hesitates for a moment.

It’s been three days. Perhaps… perhaps Aerith is right. Perhaps Tifa should just text Cloud. It’s just a text.

But then Tifa thinks of all the times she reached out to Cloud, only for him to look at her in stunned silence, running away, and she sighs, putting the phone into her purse.

She’ll try again tomorrow.

:

The drive to Barret’s place in Rocket Town takes about forty-five minutes. As usual, Elmyra and Aerith take over the CD player, putting in old Enya tunes that they sing off the top of their lungs. Tifa joins in occasionally, if only to add some harmony, and somehow her rusty little car survives the trip with a splutter as it rolls to a stop.

“Please, please, buy a new car next month,” Aerith begs her, eying the car apprehensively as they step out.

“My car is fine. It’ll last a little longer,” Tifa says as usual.

Elmyra and Aerith share an exasperated look.

Barret’s home is a simple farmhouse with several rooms and a huge wheat field. While Barret doesn’t actually run a farm, busy being a pilot, his friend Brian comes in to harvest the wheat every season in exchange for most of the profits. The fields serve as a nice playground for Denzel and Marlene and give plenty of room for a good party.

In front of the farmhouse, Barret waves at them, already starting on grilling some burgers and hot dogs for later.

“Nice of you to make it! Come on in, just put the food on the picnic table!” he points towards the eating area where Cid has brought his usual salad (made by Shera) and beer. Lemonade has been set up (made by Marlene and Denzel as usual), as well as hamburger buns and condiments. Nanaki’s usual assortment of cut fruit lies next to his grandfather’s stew. Walking over to give Barret a hug, Tifa follows Aerith and Elmyra to the picnic table, letting their offering of dumplings and cupcakes join the table.

“Auntie Tifa!” Marlene and Denzel rush out of the house, racing to see who will tackle her first.

Opening up her arms, Tifa lets herself fall back against the grass, giggling as her two favourite kids land on her. “Hello to you both too. Have you been good for your dad?”

“Yup!” Marlene says.

“Nope!” Denzel grins.

Tifa raises her brow.

“Maybe both,” they both admit.

“Then that earns half a cupcake for you both. Go ahead take one before your dad sees.”

“ _Yes! Sugar!_ ” They rush off, clearly only loyal to whoever feeds them.

Aerith helps Tifa back up, eyes searching the road for the arrival of her mysterious boyfriend. While Tifa wants to tease her, she can tell Aerith must be anxious about this boyfriend meeting her friends and family for the first time.

Ever the dutiful friend, Tifa steers Aerith’s attention to Cid and Shera, needling them both about when the baby is set to be due. Tifa already has plans to knit the baby a blanket and she can tell Cid might start crying if they keep talking about how cute the baby will be, so they move on to safer topics like the newest movies and gossip. Nanaki and Bugen eventually wander in from the house, joining in with news about their village.

When Tifa hears a truck roll up the driveway, she knows it must be Aerith’s boyfriend. Aerith squeals, rushing towards the driveway to help someone out of the truck, while Tifa freezes in shock when she sees Cloud step out of the driver’s seat. In the passenger seat, Zack Fair holds Aerith, kissing her face tenderly as she helps him out of the truck.

Tifa’s brain almost stops working.

As if sensing her panic, Cloud’s gaze locks onto hers, and his jaw drops. “Tifa?”

The fluttering feeling in her chest won’t go away, but somehow she manages to say, “Cloud, hi! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Cloud whips his head towards Zack in accusation, then back to Tifa, then back to Zack, before he hisses out, “Zack, you _did_ know that other flight attendant on the plane, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me—”

Leaning against Aerith, Zack waves his fingers into jazz hands. “Surprise?”

Cloud looks torn between wanting to murder Zack or begin driving away without him.

“Wait, so you know each other?” Aerith narrows her eyes at Zack before they curl up in delight. “Ohmygod, is this the best friend who had a crush on his childhood—”

“Tifa, wow, whydon’tyouintroducemetoeveryone,” Cloud rushes over to take Tifa’s arm towards the picnic table with amused guests.

The movement is so sudden, that Tifa doesn’t argue when Cloud steers her towards Barret.

“So, you’re… a friend of Aerith’s boy?” Barret asks, crossing his arms, his barbeque tools in hand.

“Uh, yeah. Cloud. Cloud Strife. Zack’s leg is broken, so he needed someone to drive him around…”

“Hmm…” Barret’s glare gets darker. “And you’re dragging our Tifa around _why?_ ”

Cloud stiffens, as if unsure whether he wants to let go of Tifa or not, sizing Barret up, and Tifa intervenes, “He’s an old friend.” Sort of, she doesn't say. “And he’s a good guy.”

“Oh,” Barret’s shoulders relax. “Well… welcome to the party, I suppose. Any friend of Tifa’s is a friend of ours. Just, no funny business, _especially_ around my kids. Better send Aerith and her boy up, Teef, I _did_ prepare a shovel talk.”

Not bothering to hide her giggle, Tifa nods at him, taking the opportunity to move Cloud’s hand to hers and lead him towards Cid, Shera, and Elmyra.

“Sorry about Barret. He’s my co-worker, one of the pilots we usually work with. He’s basically like the Dad of the group, very protective,” Tifa tells him.

“Right,” Cloud says, still dazed, glancing every so often at their intertwined hands.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she lets go, berating herself for being too forward, “I just assumed, I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable—”

“No, no,” he grabs her hand again, “I’m the one who assumed first and… well, I don’t mind if you don’t.”

“Oh,” she looks down at their hands, together, linked. “Okay then.” She lets herself settle into her feelings, the rough blisters of his hand and the comforting feel of this thumb against her knuckles. “I… I don’t mind,” she decides.

A small smile, so gentle that Tifa could just sit there and soak it all in, forms on his face. “Good. That’s… good.”

“Oi! Lovebirds!” Cid hollers at them, “Are you gonna introduce this guy or what?”

Nearly jolting apart, Tifa and Cloud hold onto each other’s hands before scurrying over to the picnic table. They don’t let go.

:

Zack, everyone learns, is extremely charming. Tifa’s never met anyone who smiles so much and seems to mean everything he says. He’s like the sun, so optimistic and genuine that it hurts to look at him. Aerith sighs every time Zack speaks and Zack, in turn, looks at her as if she’s the reason the world keeps turning.

By the end of dinner, everyone approves of Zack, welcoming him with open arms and asking for his contact details.

Cloud and Tifa on the other hand, exchange small talk with Nanaki and his grandfather, the quieter duo of their group, about Cosmo Village’s upcoming Sun Festival and all the preparations they’re making for it.

All through the dinner, Cloud seems tense and wary, eyeing every unfamiliar social interaction like watching live broken wire for any sparks. He nods politely but doesn’t engage further into conversation, preferring to listen in to everyone else. Judging by how he starts to hunch in on himself, make himself smaller as the evening passes, Cloud’s rather like Nanaki.

Shy.

She never thought she’d associate that word with him but the more she observes him, the more she thinks it suits him.

Deciding to give Cloud a bit of a break, she nudges his shoulder and asks if he wants to help her bring the dishes back into Barret’s house to clean up.

Relieved, Cloud nods a little too quickly, picking up a majority of the dishes for her. They both say their goodbyes to Nanaki and Bugen before retreating into Barret’s kitchen. As soon as they enter the house, Cloud relaxes completely, more at ease with himself.

When Cloud catches Tifa smiling fondly at him, he scratches the back of his neck. “Ah… that obvious, huh…”

“It’s okay,” Tifa smiles wider. “Dealing with a lot of new people can be exhausting. It’s good to take breaks.”

Placing the dishes into the sink, Cloud frowns, “…Zack never has to take breaks. He walks into a room, and he charms everyone.”

Tifa frowns, stepping closer to him.

“Sorry,” Cloud doesn’t meet her gaze. “You didn’t sign up to hear me being miserable. I’m just… you know…”

Tifa doesn’t.

But… as she looks at Cloud’s tired face, the way he holds himself, as if waiting for rejection, she wants to cup his face and whisper, ‘Who hurt you?’ There’s some deep pain, interwoven into Cloud’s very veins, and Tifa wants to weave it out of him, to make it less painful if she can. Instead, she just stands close to him, and carefully touches his hand.

Cloud glances up at her in surprise, and Tifa murmurs, “I think… that people like Zack and Aerith are definitely the life of the party. They make you smile, they make you want to _be_ better, to reach out and touch other people’s lives in the same way. But… there’s strength in who you are too, Cloud. You’re kind, and you listen. You listened to Nanaki while he rambled on about how to pick the best kind of apples… You notice when people are too quiet and ask them if they’re alright. You don’t need to compare yourself to Zack, as much as you admire him, Cloud. You… the way you are, you’re already good enough.”

His mouth parts as he stares down at her, as if she’s said the words he’s wanted to hear for his whole life, but never knew it. But Tifa isn’t arrogant enough to assume that. Still, she doesn’t know what she’ll do if Cloud keeps looking at her with that… with that _devotion_.

She’s not sure how she never noticed it before.

“Thank you,” his hand reaches up brush her bangs out of her eyes. “I just… _thank you_.”

Ducking her head down to calm her beating heart, Tifa murmurs, “Of course. Anytime.”

Voice cracking a little, Cloud mutters, “I might take you up on that…”

“W-well, go ahead. We’re friends now. So you can bother me all you want,” Tifa says, attempting to calm her stutter.

“Okay,” he whispers. “And… you too.”

Tifa blinks up at him, unsure of what he means.

Cloud smiles at her. “You can text me anytime too.”

She’s starting to believe that.

:

The rest of the barbeque goes smoothly, everyone pitching in for clean-up duty. Zack hobbles back and forth on his crutches, attempting to help too, making Barret and Cid sit him back down. They even order Aerith to sit on Zack’s lap so he won’t move around.

Cloud and Tifa, in turn, get into a quick rhythm of washing and drying dishes before they go out to entertain the kids. Cloud indulges in Marlene’s dollhouse while Tifa walks Denzel through how to throw a good punch again. It feels so natural, that it’s almost as if Tifa and Cloud have been friends for years, not just… this very evening onwards. The way Cloud interacts with Marlene makes Tifa want to know so much more about him and then the evening ends too soon.

Everyone says their goodbyes, promising to meet up again for Barret’s next party (and autumn picnic), and while Aerith and Zack have their soulful goodbye in the truck, Tifa stands in front of Cloud, feeling awkward again, as if all their progress has been lost.

“…I’m going to be going back to Wutai soon… in a few days,” Cloud mumbles.

“Yeah, I have to go back to work next week too, around Wednesday.”

They pause, before Cloud gets a determined glint in his eye and he nods down at her.

“…I’ll text you. I promise. I won’t wait around this time.”

Tifa blinks up at him in surprise. “Um, yeah. I’ll text you too. We can even do a call when we’re both free. And I did promise your mom that I’d visit.”

Cloud groans. “Hopefully not too often. She has way too many embarrassing stories of me.”

“Oh, now I really _have_ to visit!”

They both share a laugh, still at an impasse.

Cloud’s hand twitches, before he puts his hand back against his pocket. “Good night, Tifa,” he says softly.

“…Good night, Cloud.”

Then she watches Cloud and Zack drive away.

:

That night, after Tifa finally gets home, she lies in bed and stares at the wallpaper on her phone. The light of the phone taunts her.

“What are you waiting for, Lockhart?” she asks herself. “You’re friends now. Friends text each other. Just be… just be _you_.”

Bringing up all her courage, she texts Cloud a photo that Cid took of them sitting with Nanaki and Bugen.

Then she shuts her phone off and hides her head in her pillows.

In the morning, she checks her phone tentatively, and smiles.

**Cloud:** Good morning Tifa. I hope you have a good day.

In the next message, an image is attached.

It’s a photo of Cloud and Tifa, playing with the kids, just… smiling genuinely. Obviously taken by Zack.

She saves it to her phone and begins asking about Cloud’s day.

In an instant, he answers back.


	4. home is your voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late! i'm doing online teacher training now until the end of august, so less time to write. please enjoy! 
> 
> chapter warnings: emotional abuse from parent to daughter

Over the weekend, leading up to Cloud’s departure on Monday, they text back and forth about their days. The texting feels somehow easier, knowing Cloud won’t be able to see her act like an idiot, and harder with the anxiety of waiting, all at once. Tifa sends him pictures of her prized chocobo plushie ( _he looks like you_ , she said, to which he responded with a jealous emoji that did not make her grin, nope), and he sends over pictures of him and Zack trying to find all the bowling alleys in Nibelheim to try. Tifa laughs, telling them that they should have tried the hiking instead, though with Zack’s broken leg, it wouldn’t be a long hike.

**Cloud:** It’s alright, I can get a wheelbarrow to put him in.

Tifa laughs so hard, she’s sure her plushies judge her for it.

On Sunday, Aerith and Zack go on another date, Zack deciding to stay a little longer in Nibelheim until Wednesday, when Aerith has to go to back to work, leaving Cloud to visit his mother. He keeps sending pictures of Mrs. Strife pouting that Tifa isn’t here too, and the little cafes that he takes his mother to. Tifa smiles her heart aching for her own mother, and dutifully sends Cloud pictures of herself practicing piano and all the apples at Nanaki’s house when she goes over to help him and Bugen with the upcoming Sun festival.

It’s nice, having a… a _friend_ , outside of work and her father, someone who doesn’t know all her baggage yet. Tifa feels lighter when she texts him, her hands flying to her phone immediately whenever it pings with a new message. She answers his texts right away, when she gets the chance, uncaring if it makes her look ‘desperate’ or ‘clingy,’ she just… really wants to get to know him.

These little snapshots, these hints at who he has become and what he treasures… they’re precious to her.

She hopes that her own snapshots give him something to smile about too. She hopes that her own life doesn’t bore him.

:

The evening before Cloud has to leave, return to his base in Wutai, Tifa’s fingers tremble as they hover over her phone’s keyboard.

Things will change now, she knows it. Their friendship, so fragilely composed of a few awkward encounters and photos exchanged between them… will likely wear away and tear with the distance. She’s experienced it before—friends who weren’t really her friends in high school promising to stay in touch, Tifa being the only one to put in the effort to text and ask them to hang out, her friends growing more and more distant until they stopped answering her completely.

She can’t help but fear that this text will be a sort of goodbye, a small funeral for what-could-have-been between Cloud and Tifa, but she shakes her head. She’s an adult. Sometimes friendships fade away. It’s… understandable, given how busy she and Cloud are. She wouldn’t be surprised if Cloud has just been indulging her this week.

Still, she can’t leave him alone.

Quickly, she types out the text, despite the rising fear in her chest, and sends it before she can second-guess herself.

**Tifa:** Have a safe flight back to Wutai! I’ll miss being able to text in the same time zone!

There, she nods. The message is polite and doesn’t reveal too much of her feelings, as it should be. Not that she has any special feelings, not at all.

If her chocobo plushie were alive, Tifa is sure it would sigh at her.

:

Tifa’s just about to drift off to sleep when her phone pings loudly, several times, by her ear, telling her to wake up. She groans, her eyes pained and heavy with prickles of drowsy stabbing, as she flops over to tilt her phone screen up. For a moment, she squints, all the words a blur to her half-sleeping state, until she recognizes the name on the text notification, and suddenly she’s hit with adrenaline as she quickly opens his message.

**Cloud:** Thanks Tifa. I’ll miss it too.

 **Cloud:** Actually… could I call you? It’s about… well it’s about before, when we met again, on the plane. My flight hasn’t been called yet, and I can’t stop pacing, Zack’s not here and—

 **Cloud:** Never mind, ignore my last text, it was stupid.

 **Cloud:** I’m okay now. Sorry for bothering you.

Her hand slightly trembles, as her eyes reread the messages over and over again. They were all sent in rapid succession, only a minute or two passing between all four messages. She stares at the time again, almost 11:56 pm. The timestamp on all the messages is only 11:54 and 11:55 pm. Cloud’s flight doesn’t leave for another forty-five minutes.

Quickly her fingers fly over the touchscreen keyboard, only for all her words to blur together in ridiculous typos that could only be read by an expert in gibberish. Frustrated, Tifa backspaces several times, trying to remember what a ‘z’ looks like, when she decides to just call Cloud and hope she’s not overstepping.

The phone rings and rings, a short bell sound that echoes into her room like a lonely prayer in a church.

“Please pick up,” she whispers into the dark, “please don’t be alone right now…”

After what seems like a lifetime, the ringing stops. There’s a pause, Tifa uncertain if the audio on Cloud’s end is coming through, before Cloud hesitantly says, “Tifa?” a little unsteady like she isn’t real, like she’s a whisper he clings to but can’t grasp, and Tifa quickly says, “I’m here. _I’m here._ Breathe for me.”

His laughter is a welcome balm against her ear, even as soft and barely audible as it is. His breaths come out in short bursts.

“H-how you’d know I was freaking out?” he asks after taking several deep breaths, under Tifa’s prompting.

“…I just knew.”

And honestly, Tifa’s been through this before too. Panic seizing her when she had tried bracing herself in front of her fear of heights, until it paralyzed her, a cold poison seeping through her whole body. It took her a long time to stop being afraid. Sometimes, she still can’t go on trivial things like roller coasters because she’ll remember that fear again.

“…Thank you,” he says quietly. “And I’m sorry for bothering you again, I know it’s late. I was just… I couldn’t _think_ about going on that plane without… Well. It’s silly, I know, sorry—”

“Cloud,” she says gently, leaning back against her pillow, “it’s okay. Like I told you before, I’ve been there. I understand. It’s okay to feel like this.”

She listens to his breathing calm down and closes her eyes. For a moment, she can pretend that he’s there with her, instead of waiting to fly to another country on the other side of the continent. Only the cold by her side tells her the truth. He’s not here. And soon, he won’t be in the same country anymore.

“…Does it ever stop feeling like this?”

Tifa frowns. “The airsickness, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“It… it takes time. You’d have to fly on more planes. Get your Sky legs, like I said.”

A dejected laugh enters her ear. “Yeah, well, I’ll be getting more practice as I go down more often to visit Ma. She didn’t say anything but she was silently guilting me to come by again.”

“Was it the idea of getting on a plane that stopped you before?” Tifa can’t help but ask, her sleepiness making her careless about asking personal questions.

“…Partially. I was… I was also kind of ashamed.”

She blinks several times, frowning. “Ashamed?”

“Yeah, I’m… I’m just a mechanic here. I’m not… not a _hero_ or anything, like Zack is. I don’t make nearly enough to take care of Ma, but I try. I don’t even have the courage to do the most important things. Every time I thought of calling Ma, instead of writing her letters, I’d imagine her disappointed voice on the phone and I just couldn’t do it… I… I’m pretty much a coward. Can’t even get on a plane without feeling sick.”

“You’re not a coward,” Tifa finds herself saying, remembering the tenderness that defined Cloud’s actions at Moonrise Homes. “Cloud, you’ve been in the military since you were practically a kid because you wanted to take care of her! I bet you spent all of your leaves just working anyways just to earn some extra cash for her. And in the end, when she needed you, you came back for her. Even after all these years, you came back. She could have yelled at you or told you to leave, but you came anywas. That’s… that’s really brave. And you… you’re not afraid to tell me that you’re scared. I think… I think that’s the opposite of cowardice. It takes a lot to admit that you’re scared. It takes a lot to face the people you love after you’ve left them.”

His breath goes into a hush. And Tifa rambles on, telling herself she might as well dive in now.

“You’re brave, Cloud Strife, because you try even when you’re afraid to. And you’re going to be okay on that plane. I promise. I’ll send you some audiobooks and classical music you can focus on during the flight. Just… just think of something that calms you, and I can’t promise that you won’t get another panic attack, but hopefully it makes things better. Listening to another voice in your ear… it can really soothe you.”

Her eyes start to droop down again.

“Tifa?” Cloud’s voice, now a husk, says.

“Yes?”

“Can you… can you read to me, while I’m waiting? I just… I just need to hear your voice.”

This inexplicable warmth fills her and tugs at her eyelids. Tifa almost nods before she remembers he can’t see her.

“Of course.”

She starts scrolling through her phone app and finds a story that could last for about twenty more minutes before boarding time.

“Ready to hear my derpy voice?” she jokes.

“It’s _never_ derpy,” she can hear the smile in his words, “it’s _you_.”

A hot blush forms on her face. But she stutters back, “It’s nothing compared to _your_ voice,” and the resulting embarrassed noises he makes is almost worth the awkwardness.

Tifa laughs… and then, she begins to tell her story.

“ _Long ago, there was a princess who was stuck in her tower…_ ” her voice sings into the night. She hears Cloud chuckle at the childish story, and then listen with rapt attention at the dark elements that get added in this version of the story. The usual Rapunzel, watered down for kids, involves a handsome prince that rescues her but nearly gets killed by a witch. In this version, he falls and gets blinded… Rapunzel looks for him everywhere until she finds him and begins to cry into his eyes, her tears healing him. It’s such a macabre version of the tale that has always lingered in Tifa’s mind because of the haunting imagery, because of the devastation of reunion and the hope for a happy ending.

Tifa spends the next hour reading Cloud fairy tales, listening to him breathe in and out like the steady waves of the ocean until her eyes droop shut, refusing to lift again.

As she slumbers, her voice trailing off, she nearly misses Cloud’s voice in her ear, murmuring, ‘Sweet dreams, Tifa,’ and she smiles.

“Call me when you get off the plane?” her words slur together in dreamland.

“Promise,” he vows.

And with that, Tifa drifts off to sleep, her dreams filled with visions of Cloud flying in the air with broken wings and Tifa reaching up to him, still so far away.

:

Her phone rings again and again on her bed, begging for attention, before Tifa finally manages to find it without opening her eyes. She attempts to unlock the phone with her eyes shut but it doesn’t work out very well. By the time she manages to answer the incoming call, she feels like her skull wants to fight her with the incoming headache.

“…Hello?” she mumbles.

“…Morning Tifa, sorry, did I wake you?”

“Cloud!” She immediately sits up straight. “Um, hi! Did you just get off your flight now?”

“Yeah, I’m heading over to baggage claim.”

“Have you eaten yet? There’s a really good café outside the airport that serves matcha pancakes if you have time to stop by. They’re good on the go too if you don’t want any syrup.”

“Well I—” Cloud’s stomach gurgles. He groans. “Sorry. You… probably heard that. Yeah, that… um, matcha pancakes sound good…”

Tifa grins. “Take a picture and send it to me! I haven’t had their pancakes in forever! Whenever there’s a layover at Wutai, Aerith drags me to get barbeque skewers instead.”

Cloud’s stomach gurgles even louder this time, even on the phone. This time, Tifa can’t hold in her giggles.

“Sure, sure, laugh. You’re not the one who couldn’t eat a thing on the plane…” Cloud grumbles.

“Oh god, the plane! How was the flight? How are you feeling?” Tifa asks, cursing herself for not asking sooner. “Never mind, don’t get the pancakes. You should get some ginger soda from the convenience store down the road and—”

“Tifa,” Cloud sounds as if he’s trying not to laugh, “it’s okay. I think I can handle pancakes. Honestly, I’m _starving_ , I could eat anything. Um… those music files you sent, the classical playlist? It… It really helped to listen to them. Especially all the recordings of your music…”

She freezes. “Wait, I… I sent you those?!” Sleepy Tifa did not pay attention to what files she sent Cloud last night, just auto-sending every music file on her phone. “Please, _please_ , delete those, the sound quality is _terrible_ , I didn’t edit the files yet to take out the audio distortion, they sound awful—”

Laughter blossoms from Cloud, as welcoming as a spring day. “They sound perfect.”

“Well, I mean, you can hear people coughing in the background, and fans whirling, and I think I made some mistakes a few times—”

“I liked it,” his straightforward words bulldoze through her defences completely. “It felt like I was there with you, listening to you play at Moonrise Homes… instead of on the plane. It… it helped. A lot. So thank you.”

Her heart has never been so loud before, slamming in her ears, begging her to say something.

“T-then… I’ll record some more. Today. Later. When I go visit my dad. A-and your mom. So you can listen. N-not that you’ll need it again. I mean, I’m sure you won’t be flying out to Nibelheim for at least another month, so I guess you won’t _really_ need the recordings—”

“I’d… I’d like that. Really. Like I said before, I… I love hearing you play.”

Tifa needs to take a second to breathe.

“T-then I’ll send you as many recordings as I can.”

“I look forward to it,” he whispers like a promise.

In the background noise, she hears another announcement about flights and baggage claims. “W-well, I, um, better let you go. I have to get ready to see my Dad. I’ll, um, let you know how your Mom is doing.”

“I’m free later this evening! I mean, _your_ evening, like… ten pm? So, nighttime. If you want to call.”

“I’d… I’d really like that.”

“Great. Then…”

“Then… talk to you later,” Tifa says softly.

“Yeah, talk to you later, Tifa,” he says, just as soft.

They hang up, possibly at the same time, and Tifa buries her face in her pillow to scream out her nerves.

:

Later that day, Cloud texts a sad emoji face as the pancake café isn’t open yet, Wutai having a six hour time difference from Nibelheim, still nighttime. But he does text back a photo of some ramen bar that’s apparently open 24/7 and then a photo of a steaming bowl of ramen that’s topped with succulent slices of pork and chicken.

**Tifa:** Very jealous! I haven’t had good ramen in Wutai in forever!

 **Cloud:** I’ll have to take you sometime then. And you can show me that barbeque place.

She smiles at the thought of that. Likely, Cloud means the invitation in a friendly way, nothing more.

**Tifa:** I guess I will! It’s probably better that you’re eating ramen right now anyways, the broth will warm you up better after that flight. Hope you’re dressed warm!

 **Cloud:** It’s a date.

Tifa almost drops her phone into the sink from shock. She rereads the text with wide eyes. Date. D-a-t-e. Yup. Those are the letters that form that word, in that context.

“He’s just being friendly, Lockhart,” she tells her reflection in the mirror. “You and Aerith tease each other all the time in that away. He doesn’t mean it.”

Still, she doesn’t dare reply to that text.

:

The rest of the day is spent sporadically texting each other. Cloud is a welcome distraction as Tifa spends her last few days before she goes back to work from her Dad.

Some days Brian Lockhart is almost sweet, still mistaking Tifa for her mother. Other days, he’s irritable and glares at Tifa, seeing her for who she is, telling her that she’s not doing enough to take care of him and she wants to cry.

 _He doesn’t mean it,_ she lies to herself. _He’s just sick._

But it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt any less. Her only break in the days leading up to work is reading Cloud’s words.

Cloud sends her little texts about how quiet everything is without Zack at Wutai’s military base. He talks about his day and the training exercises, then the routine maintenance checks he has to do on various military vehicles. Obviously, he can’t go too much in detail about what he does because of confidentially purposes, but he does like to complain about his friend Vincent, who’s in Intelligence, and how he speaks in riddles all the time. Apparently Cloud also gets along with a majority of his co-workers in the mechanics department—Biggs, Wedge, and Jesse. They go out for drinks every weekend with Vincent and another soldier Yuffie (whom everyone is convinced is a secret assassin trained by the government.) They like to complain about the higher-ups and bet on when Rude will actually speak to someone beside Reno voluntarily.

Tifa’s glad to see that Cloud has friends, that he’s enjoying himself. When they were children, Cloud was always alone. He seemed to pull away from people so easily, and Tifa didn’t know how to get him to look at her. She’s a bit envious of his co-workers, for being able to see a side of Cloud that she didn’t even know existed until now.

And yet, Tifa can tell that Cloud seems restless, still awkward about his place. He likes working with machines, certainly, but he doesn’t like going into detail about the missions his friends return from. He doesn’t like talking about the battles, not that Tifa ever brings it up. She can tell how much the subject hurts him.

So she rambles on about her day. She talks about how she met Aerith, the way Aerith and Zack are so attached to each other, how they’re acting like the world is ending since Aerith has to return to work on Wednesday. She talks about Barret, and how he took Tifa under his wing when she first started working at Highwind Airlines. She talks about Marlene and Denzel, and how their texts to her make her brave. She talks about Nanaki’s quiet humour and Cid’s endearing leadership. She hopes that with her words, she can help Cloud think of other things, even if they’re as mundane as her life.

“…You sound like you’re really enjoying yourself,” Cloud murmurs. “I never thought you’d be a flight attendant before… but now I think it really suits you.”

“Oh?” Tifa can’t help but tease him. “And just what career did you peg for me before, Cloud Strife?”

“N-nothing bad or anything! You’re just, you’ve always been so patient. And kind. I thought maybe you’d be a good school teacher… or a daycare worker… or even a nurse. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had ended up as a pianist either. You just radiate… _you_.”

She pauses, her tongue going dry. “I… I didn’t realize you thought so highly of me back then.”

“Anyone with eyes would have seen that about you,” Cloud murmurs quietly.

“…And now?”

“…Now I think that anyone who ends up with you as their flight attendant is extremely lucky to have you. You just… you make people feel safe,” Cloud says lamely, “and I think on planes where there’s a constant chance of crashing—”

“The statistics of dying in a plane crash are far lower than dying in a car crash,” Tifa finds herself repeating that comforting fact.

“—passengers really need that from you.”

“Well…” Tifa says carefully, “thank you. I… I think I really needed to hear that. Thank you so much.”

She just wishes that her father felt the same way.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Cloud says, as Tifa begins to yawn, her time zone approaching midnight, “What made you decide to become a flight attendant? Last I heard, you wanted to become a martial artist under Master Zangan.”

Tifa blushes. “I can’t believe you still remember that. I was twelve! Master Zangan was practically my hero. He was so cool, like those martial artists you see on tv. I still see him as his gym when I get the time. He keeps asking me to come back.”

“Of course, I remember,” Cloud mutters. “The way you looked at him… I wanted to… Ah, it doesn’t matter. So? Why a flight attendant?”

She senses that there’s more to the Master Zangan subject than meets the eye but decides that she’ll ask Mrs. Strife about it. She’s still pleasantly surprised whenever Mrs. Strife welcomes her with a hello, like Tifa is worth being happy to see, like Tifa still has value. It’s… a bit overwhelming to be around Mrs. Strife for longer than fifteen minutes at a time. Tifa doesn’t want to overstep her boundaries, despite how much she wants to stay longer and listen to Mrs. Strife’s stories.

But figuring out what Cloud thinks of Master Zangan might be a story worth staying a bit longer to hear.

“You’ll think it’s silly,” Tifa admits, walking up to her apartment and settling on the bench outside. If she goes into her dark stairwell or the elevator, she’s afraid that her signal to Cloud will get cut off.

“You didn’t think my reason for joining the army was silly.”

“That’s because it’s not.” Cloud did it for his mom, short and simple. Maybe a bit for the glory, but Tifa can see that Cloud’s too humble to brag about himself or to recklessly seek it.

“Then your reason isn’t either.”

Tifa’s lips itch up. “You don’t even know it yet.”

“And I won’t until I hear it. But I’m still right.”

“You won’t be so smug once you hear it!” Tifa warns him, not yet settling against the bench. “I was just… a bit sick of being stuck at that house… especially after the fire.”

Cloud goes quiet. “We… we don’t have to talk about it if it’s a tough subject. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked—”

“No, no, it’s nothing traumatic to me,” not compared to her father, she doesn’t say, “the fire was just a freak accident.”

Not quite. Her father and another patron of a nearby bar had become quiet drunk during one of the neighbourhood cook-outs. Neither of them could remember who started the fire. It was accidental, of course, no real motive to start fire during the dry summer against the trees. The next thing they knew, the fire had spread throughout the whole neighbourhood. Really, only Tifa’s house and Cloud’s were spared. The years after were filled with construction. It had been pure dumb luck that everyone was out at the cook-out and no one was home. That didn’t stop the lawyers from suing her father for a lot of money.

It only made him more upset. More angry. By then, Tifa couldn’t recognize her dad anymore, the happy man he once was.

“Anyways, before that, I’d been… listless. Bored. Everyone at school was moving out of town to better and bigger things. I thought I wanted to take over Master Zangan’s gym but I kept looking to the stars…” Cloud’s breath hitches, “and the sky. I kept thinking of what it might be like to see the world, to be up there, weightless, above it all.”

And away from her father.

How she regrets that now.

“Weren’t you afraid of heights though?”

“Yeah,” Tifa laughs a little, “but I guess I wanted to feel weightless more. I wanted to be in the sky.”

She also kept wondering where Cloud was.

“That’s amazing,” Cloud whispers. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than my fear of heights before.”

“You’ll find something,” Tifa says knowingly. “I think that’s really how you stop being afraid. You have to want what’s on the other side of that fear more than the fear itself, if that makes sense. Once the fire hit, I needed a job right away and the flight attendant course fit the bill. They had a fast-track one-year program at the local college and I passed.”

She also escaped her father for a time. Tifa couldn’t stand being stuck in Nibelheim anymore, not when it felt like this sickening prison of emotional turmoil, not when her father looked at her like she had done him wrong. Nibelheim wasn’t home anymore, not for her. It hadn’t been home for a long time. And in the air, with Aerith, Nanaki, Cid, and Barret, she felt free. She didn’t need a home, she could just _be._

And then her father got sick…

And then, it was like she had lost him and regained a part of him all at once.

“Still, you seem pretty happy. You must love your job,” Cloud muses.

“I do! My co-workers are like family, as you saw, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I don’t get to see the sights nearly as much as I’d like, the layover times aren’t always the greatest, but I get to try so much good food to try and cook at my apartment. It’s wonderful.”

“…I envy that.”

The soft tremble of his voice makes something twist inside her. “You do?”

“Yeah… don’t get me wrong, my friends are great. I don’t regret going into the army. I had to do it. But… I just wish that I felt like I had more of a purpose… that I wasn’t just… drifting from the next job to the next. I guess I just feel… restless.”

“…I think I get that. Not about my job, but about my purpose in life,” Tifa admits, twisting her hand against her skirt. After her father is gone, what will Tifa do? Who will she live for?

(You should live for you, a voice like Aerith’s whispers.

But that’s so lonely.

Is It though?)

“I guess we can figure it out together.”

“Yeah,” Tifa smiles at his voice, at this little thing between them despite being countries apart. “I guess we can.”

:

Going back to work throws Tifa into her usual routine again. She feels alive, like she’s a part of a community when she sees Aerith and Barret waiting for her at the airport. Together with Nanaki and Aerith, she flits back and forth, serving passengers and forgetting her troubles. Tifa the flight attendant is flawless and patient, no one would know from her smile that she worries about her father, that there’s an ache that she can’t fill.

During her breaks, she checks her phone. Sometimes, Cloud is online at the same time as Tifa and they text back and forth a few mundane details about their day—Cloud might complain about Reno again or show her a prank Jesse pulled. Tifa might tell Cloud about a cranky customer or yet another bout of Aerith pining for Zack. The texts feel like too far and in between, but with the time difference and the bustle of both their jobs, what can they do?

They haven’t been able to schedule another call with how tired Tifa gets after her shifts. She uses her layovers to pass out, and sometimes those layovers are during Cloud’s sleep schedule too. She stops telling Cloud when she’s free, because she’s too afraid he won’t be. She’d rather look forward to his daily texts than ask for another call and get rejected.

She feels like they’re tied together in an elastic band, stretched so far apart that they won’t be able to come back together… too loose and broken.

It’s fine. Really. They’re just friends. They don’t _need_ to text that often, and Tifa doesn’t constantly think of Cloud’s quiet smiles or the comforting way he smells or how patient he is with Marlene. She doesn’t constantly check her phone for updates on his day or dutifully texts a ‘hello’ when she can remember what time zone he’s in compared to wherever she is in the world.

So what if they can only exchange small talk and general platitudes, little pictures of meals here and there?

Isn’t it something?

It’s better than nothing. Better than meeting Cloud once and never meeting him again. Too many people have cut Tifa off because she was ‘too emotional’ or she texted too often. Maybe that’s why Tifa feels so comfortable around her co-workers. They have to work with her so they can’t leave. The obligation of work ties them all closer together.

But what ties Cloud to Tifa, realistically?

Nothing but paper-thin memories.

:

Nearly a month passes before Tifa gets her next ten days off in Nibelheim again. Barret plans yet another picnic that Tifa plans to attend. Aerith gets excited that Zack will come up from Gongaga to visit her, his leg healing nicely.

With all these joyous plans, the week should go smoothly. Tifa stares at her daily text from Cloud again, another ‘good morning’ and a photo of Wedge trying to sneak a cat into the mess hall. She smiles, texting back an emoji of a cute cat, but other than that, she doesn’t text more. She should tell Cloud she’s on her break again, maybe call.

But she can’t.

Even as she thinks about him, about how he promised to text her more, she can’t ask for this. What if he just wants to text? What if he doesn’t want to hear her voice? What if this is all in her head? What if this feeling between them just vanishes, the string connecting them together snapping from its fragility?

What if she’s deluding herself in thinking she means anything at all?

No, she can’t bother him.

She sighs, looking out into the rain pouring down. Today will have to be a car day, today she’ll go visit her dad again.

:

Her beat-up car clunks and splutters on the way to Moonrise Homes while the rain pounds against the windshield, demanding to be let in. Tifa keeps rubbing the dashboard gently. “Come on, girl. You can make it. You’re strong.”

As if responding to her, the car roars to life again, finally taking Tifa to her destination.

“Thank you so much, I knew you could do it,” Tifa tells her car, paranoid that it will break down on the way back to her apartment. “Keep staying strong. I’ll book a mechanic to check up on you soon!”

If Aerith could see her now… talking to her car… She’d never hear the end of it.

Maybe it’s the rain, loudly stomping down on the ceiling. Maybe it’s the dark clouds, casting shadows everywhere despite the light inside. But Moonrise Homes feels ominous, haunted, when Tifa walks in, her footsteps echoing down the halls. She says hi to the receptionist, making some small talk before she braces herself to walk into her father’s room. Maybe she’ll come visit Mrs. Strife too, needle her a bit about Cloud. Or… maybe she won’t ask about Cloud. She can just have tea quickly and leave. That’s fine.

Her father is glaring at the wall again, the tv has been turned up loud.

Ah. A bad day then.

Tifa takes a deep breath.

“Hi Papa…”

His head whips up to look at her, today recognition in them. “Tifa, where have you been?!”

“Well I—”

“I’ve been here for days!”

Years, actually.

“And you can’t even respect me by visiting at least once a day at the end of your shift at the bar? Is this how much you care about your own father?”

Tifa flinches. She doesn’t bother trying to explain that she works as a flight attendant anymore. He won’t remember it anyways. Usually, Brian Lockhart thinks she’s still a child or a teenager attending school when he remembers her.

“Dad,” she says, tired. “You know I love you. I love you _so_ much. I’d be here all the time, if I could.”

(But you shouldn’t be, that voice like Aerith’s whispers to her, you deserve to live too.)

“Well you don’t show it. Do you know how hard I had to work to get you into a good school? And you can’t even visit me for one measly hour? You make me stay here, hoping I’ll die, will you—”

“Papa _please_ ,” Tifa raises her voice, only a little. “I just… I just want to have a nice day with you. Read a book or play piano for you. Can we just… have a nice visit, please?”

He glares at her, looking ready to yell some more, but in the end he decides to just ignore her as if she doesn’t matter.

Tifa tries not to react. If she acts hurt, he’ll blame her again, use it against her. It’s best to keep treating him kindly, as if he never said anything at all.

She slowly moves towards the chair next to his best and pulls out a few books for him.

Brian Lockhart casts one look at the books’ covers and scowls. “I don’t like them.”

Tifa frowns. “Okay.” She doesn’t mention how much her father enjoyed each book last month, when he thought she was her mother. She doesn’t mention how he’ll demand those books later, just as angry. “TV then?”

He doesn’t say, only turns up the volume louder.

In the bitter silence, she turns her head so he won’t see her cry.

:

As usual, on bad days, Brian Lockhart makes her read those books to him. He complains about how slowly or how fast she speaks. He demands she feed her and then berates the food quality. He never seems happy, this version of this father, unless he has someone to bring down with him, and Tifa hates every moment of it.

“This is disgusting,” he says as he continues eating the soup she made. “Why do you bother coming if you can’t even make soup?”

“…Dad, if you don’t like it, then don’t eat it. You can have the food here instead.”

He keeps eating.

Tifa closes her eyes.

She loves him. She really does but…

She’s just so tired.

:

Tifa doesn’t get to leave until late at night. Outside, the rain seems louder, more demanding. It wants to sink into every crevice of the building, and yet it can only slide down the glass doors uselessly.

“Can you please tell Mrs. Strife that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit? I’ll try to see her next time…”

“Yes, of course. Do have a safe drive, Tifa,” Nurse Elena tells her.

“You too.”

Every step she takes feels empty, like someone else is directing her body forward while Tifa watches from the outside. Somehow, eventually, she gets into her car and it starts with a messy splutter. The rain comes down harder, louder, echoing all of her father’s words.

The rain roars so loud that Tifa can’t hear the warning signs that her car tries to give, too far down the road to care. She just wants to drive out of Nibelheim, go out into the country roads and park in the middle of nowhere to think. She doesn’t hear the engine slowly dying and giving out. She doesn’t hear the splutter of the engines until she’s far into the country road.

Lightning flashes across the sky just as her car gives up and dies and Tifa’s left frantically trying to start her poor car again.

But no matter how much Tifa turns the key to the ignition, the car won’t start. Even her emergency battery doesn’t help. The car is silent in the pouring rain. Dead.

Despite everything, all the work and care Tifa put into maintaining such an old engine, it died.

All around her the rain plasters itself all over her body, trying to claim her warmth. Her clothes stick to her as she stares back down at the metal and grease, at the engine that won’t run again, and she can’t think. The rain is so loud.

She slowly opens the door to her car and sits in the driver’s seat. The light above the dashboard is the only thing left that works. All the heat is slowly leaving the car.

She should call someone. She should get help.

Another flash of lightning lights up the corpse of her car.

Her hands shake as she pulls out her phone, the wet rain sticking to her fingers, making her fiddle with the phone screen for at least four tries before she unlocks it. She hits her speed dial. Barret should pick up soon. He has a truck. He can drive her home. She’ll have to pay him back for the gas and get a tow truck for her car.

She doesn’t pay attention to the light of the call screen, only presses speaker phone and lets her phone lie in the passenger seat and stares down at the steering wheel.

When the call connects, Tifa immediately stutters out, “B-barret? My car just broken down and I know it’s in the middle of a thunderstorm right now, but could you p-please come p-pick me up? I’m… I don’t know where I am… I think… I think I’m about a third of a way down highway 7? I might have driven past the old apple f-farm? I just…” thunder booms a few kilometers away from where she and her corpse of a car sit, “I need some help. I…”

“Tifa?”

She freezes. “You… you’re not Barret…”

Cloud’s voice fills up the entire car. “No… I… Listen, Tifa, are you alright? I just texted Zack where you are, hope that’s okay. He’s coming down from Gongaga with his Dad to get you. They’re not too far from you. Are you hurt? Do you need anything?”

Her breaths come out sharply.

“Tifa, please, just… just talk to me.”

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her. Why oh why did she have to press his number? Since when did she put him on her speed dial? Why does he have to hear her being so weak? She can’t let him hear her crying. She _can’t_.

“It’s… it’s not just about the car, is it? Something… something else is wrong.”

“N-no! Nothing, I’m just…” Shit, now he can definitely hear the tears in her voice. “I’m just… really upset… about the car… and how much work I put into it… but it was going to break down the whole time, wasn’t it? I put in all that effort for nothing…”

“Tifa,” Cloud says, ever so gently, “whatever you put your work into… it’s always worth it, because it’s you. It wasn’t for nothing.”

She’s not sure why, but the tears end up flooding out, just as violently as the rain around her. It’s ugly. It’s horrible. And yet through it all, Cloud just listens. He repeats the mantra of ‘it’s okay,’ and ‘I’m here,’ even though he really isn’t. But it’s his voice, his kind and gentle voice, as strong as it was when he first saved her life and she clings to that like a lifeline.

She ends up telling him about her dad. About his dementia. About his terrible words. About how he changed after mom died. About how hard it is to love someone who keeps changing and who’s sick and who can’t be held accountable for what hurt he throws at her. About her own failings. And at the end of it all, she can’t believe how much she said.

“…I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I meant to call Barret, I shouldn’t have called you—”

“I’m glad.”

Tifa stops.

“N-not that you’re crying, or that your dad’s an asshole—I don’t care if he has dementia or not, common courtesy should still be an engrained trait—but that you called _me_ first. I… I want you to call me. I… I want to be the one you call first when you’re in trouble.”

She nearly stops breathing.

“Is… is that okay?”

She can’t think.

“I know,” Cloud says sullenly, “it’s selfish of me.”

“N-no! I just… I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me more often… or that you’d want to talk to me.”

“I _always_ want to talk to you more. I’ve… _always_ wanted to talk to you more.”

Tifa’s eyes widen. The rain starts to lessen. She’s not sure what that means, if it’s possible to _hope_.

“I… I want to talk to you more too.”

“Then,” Cloud whispers, “let’s do that. Let’s… call more often. Let’s… share more of our burdens together.”

“I…” Tifa thinks of her father. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“Me neither, honestly,” Cloud says softly, “but I think what we talked about today was okay?”

“Cloud, I cried so much that my eyes might fall out.”

“Please don’t fall out.”

Tifa laughs a little, her voice still clogged with tears. “I guess we can try.”

“Good… good. Maybe… we can talk again tomorrow? Same time?”

“Yeah… I… I think that can work.”

“And Tifa? Your dad’s wrong about you. I know you work hard. I know how much you care. I know it’s hard to remember that, especially when you can’t leave the situation you’re in… but please try to remember that.”

“I…” she leans back in the seat, watching the rain lessen. “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Cloud’s voice echoes all throughout the car, holding her tight.

Outside, the rain begins to stop.


	5. home is your constancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so so much for all the lovely comments, love you all dearly!!

Zack and his dad arrive with their van about half an hour later, just as Tifa begins telling Cloud about Aerith’s attempts to make chicken udon-gone-wrong. Cloud hasn’t said much, but he doesn’t need to. Tifa feels comforted by his quiet chuckles and his soft breaths against her ear. He feels like he’s with her, someone to carry in her pocket, even if he can’t hold her hand.

As she curls up with her feet on the driver’s seat, she’s almost startled by the bright headlights that blind her in the darkness.

“Tifa?” Cloud asks, alarmed.

“Sorry, I was just surprised. I think Zack and his dad are here.”

“A big blue van? The licence plate says FA16IR?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

“It’s them,” Cloud says. “Unless someone stole their van… On second thought, just, wait in the car until you see Zack come out.”

“ _Cloud_.”

“Hey, you never know!” he insists. “Better safe than sorry.”

She can’t hold back her smile. A woman stranded alone on a country road at night, of course, Cloud would be worried. But Tifa can take care of herself. She does self-defence on the side for a reason, and Barret always makes sure that Aerith and Tifa have pepper spray on them. Still, having him worry over her fills the cracks that were opened up by her breakdown earlier and she can’t help but feel warm.

“…I know. Thank you.”

She’s not one to make bets, always saving her money for her father. But if she could, she’d bet quite a lot of gil that Cloud must be blushing now.

Outside, she watches as the van slows by her car. She tenses, a hand down on her pepper spray just in case, her doors locked, but as soon as she sees Zack’s familiar spiked back hair and crutches, she relaxes and unlocks the door.

“It’s definitely Zack,” she tells Cloud.

“Good… good… I guess I should leave you to it…” his voice drifts off hesitantly, like he’s too afraid to take another breath.

Tifa, too, feels a tug in her lungs that has nothing to do with air. “Can I… can I call you when I get back to my apartment? Just… just to check in?”

And maybe talk, she thinks. Really talk. About everything and nothing, the way real friends do. Maybe she’ll talk to Cloud about her father some more, or maybe she’ll talk to him about the latest book she’s reading until she falls asleep. Maybe Cloud will tell her a bit more about what it was like living away from his mother, maybe Cloud will reveal his own cracks and insecurities. Maybe Cloud will enchant her with more details about the people that surround his life now.

All Tifa knows is that she doesn’t want to go back to before. She can’t go back to texts in between shifts and breaks. She can’t go back to trying to piece together his facial expressions based on the letters on her phone and the rare emojis he replies with. She wants his voice, now that she’s allowed to have it, and she’s not ready to hang up yet.

So she waits, all of her breath focused on what he could say next, when he whispers, “Oh, Tifa… _yes_ , of course. Definitely.” She hears some voices in the background.

What bravery Tifa has dissipates. Cloud’s still at work! “Wait, maybe tomorrow, when you’re free. I don’t want to take up your time—”

“It’s okay, really,” Cloud says quickly. “Biggs and Wedge are covering for me, and our supervisor owes me a favour. I meant what I said earlier.”

(I _always_ want to talk to you more. I’ve… _always_ wanted to talk to you more.)

She blushes, ducking her head although no one but Zack (who’s getting closer to the van with the help of his father) can see. “Okay,” she breathes. “I meant it too.”

“I know.”

They’re left in that companionable silence, the type of silence Tifa could sink into because it feels like Cloud all over, before Zack and his father knock on Tifa’s car door and she has to hang up.

:

Mr. Fair is absolutely lovely—just as tall and muscular as his son, though he has happy wrinkles on his face and greyer hair. Where Zack grins like the sun and has longer spiked hair, Mr. Fair has cut his hair much shorter and smiles more with his eyes. As he and Zack quickly usher Tifa into their van, they tell her that a tow-truck will come for her car shortly.

She thanks them both profusely, offering to pay for gas and treat them to breakfast. Mr. Fair refuses, insisting that it wouldn’t be gentlemanly to accept payment for his son’s friend and Zack only mumbles that he would never turn down free food (though he gets elbowed by Mr. Fair for that.) Tifa finds herself laughing, her joy returning to her, nestling into her soul like a tired bird that has finally found home.

She should feel sadder, she thinks, as they drive away from the old car that has carried her through hard times after university, the car she used to drive Aerith to the hospital when Elmyra got sick, the car she used to pick up Marlene and Denzel when they got lost. Tifa had purchased it when she was studying to be a flight attendant—it was old and no one wanted it, but Tifa fell in love with its cozy seats and faded blue paint. She thought that if she fixed it up, then she could fix anything.

Now it’s being left behind.

 _Thank you_ , she thinks to the little car that no one else cared for, _thank you for carrying me this far_.

And then she lets go.

:

“So…” Zack sits with Tifa in the back. His cast still remains on his leg and Tifa’s amused to see many heart doodles signed by Aerith in different colours. “What’s up with you and Cloud?”

Tifa’s eyes go wide. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve _never_ seen the guy smile so much or even _text_ this much before. Yeah, I know, I haven’t been on base because of my leg, but I mean like… he actually texts me more? He texts everyone more! And Vincent told me that Cloud’s always smiling while he’s at work and I _know_ the only thing that’s changed in the past month is that he met up with you again. Cloud hasn’t really elaborated after I teased him at Barret’s barbeque, so spill.”

His eager gaze, so much like Aerith when she’s hunting juicy details, makes Tifa relax.

“We were neighbours… we never talked much as kids. Honestly, I thought he hated me. But… he saved my life. And then, he moved away. You know the rest.”

Zack’s jaw drops. “Seriously? You thought he hated you?! Damn, Cloud… He, uh… You know he doesn’t hate you, right?”

“Oh, I know he doesn’t hate me _now_ ,” Tifa blushes. “But when we were kids, it was different. I’m pretty sure he didn’t like me much.”

Zack stares at her in disbelief. “Okay. I’ll bite. Why do you think that?”

“Well, he always ran away every time I tried to talk to him.”

This time, Mr. Fair, who can’t help but eavesdrop, spits out into laughter.

Zack looks like Christmas has come early, pure glee colouring his face.

“He _ran away?!_ Oh my god, and I thought you two were really tight from the way he tells it. I’m never letting this go. When he gets married one day, I’ll have this story marked down in my best man speech and everything, holy shit.”

“Now, now, Zack, not everyone is as smooth as the Fair men,” Mr. Fair waggles his eyebrows in the rear-view mirror.

Tifa finds herself groaning at the pun. Now she can see why Aerith loves this man and his family so much.

“Anyways,” she tries to take back what little control she already had of the conversation, “you can see why he obviously didn’t like me.”

“Right, well,” Zack says between laughs, “I’d _ask_ him about it, if I were you. He might surprise you.”

“Ah, um, maybe?” She’s not sure if she should ask. It doesn’t seem as important to dig up when compared to who they are now. Besides, Tifa doesn’t want to know the reason why he ran away, why he found her so abhorrent. What matters is that she knows he’s a good person now.

“Seriously,” Zack turns to her with a solemn gaze, “you should ask him. I thought I knew Cloud really well before… but now that he’s met you again… it’s like he’s lit up, found his purpose. He’s… happy. Like, _really_ happy. You mean a lot to him.”

Pinned by Zack’s sincere and solemn gaze, Tifa doesn’t know what to say. She wants to deny it. After all, how could she have made such an impact on Cloud’s life when they’ve only started texting back and forth for a month? But to deny it would be to deny how Cloud affects her in turn, to deny that Cloud’s words and texts have been like a lifeline she didn’t know she needed. Her life was fine before, she was content. But with Cloud in it, every single text makes her feel like her life _glitters_ and _sparkles_ with a zest she didn’t know she was missing.

“…Alright. I… I _might_ ask. If it comes up.”

“Good,” Zack grins, clapping her on the shoulder. “Let me know how it goes.”

“I said I _might_ ask,” Tifa hides back a smile. “That’s not a guarantee.”

As Zack groans and tries to needle her into guaranteeing her question to Cloud with terrible puns and puppy eyes, Tifa pushes down the bubble of anxiety in her chest. It’s just a question. She can do this.

:

She can’t do this. Talk to Cloud about their childhood, that is. She really can’t.

After treating Zack and Mr. Fair to an extremely early breakfast and coffee at a nearby 24-hour diner, Tifa arrives home at two in the morning and immediately dials Cloud. It’ll be evening in Wutai now and she can’t help but be anxious that he won’t pick up, that she’s interrupting his leisure time, that he’s forgotten about her.

But then he picks up after the first ring with a breathless, ‘hi,’ and all of her just melts, a big smile spread on her face before she knows it.

“Hi,” she says back, just as breathless, sinking into her blankets. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She can hear the bustle of voices in the background of Cloud’s call.

“No, not at all!” She can hear hurried footsteps, and then silence after a door swings shut. Cloud’s voice echoes in hurried whispers, “I’m… I’m really glad you called. I wasn’t sure if you’d be too tired…”

“I’m not too tired!” Tifa says just as a yawn tries to overtake her.

Cloud’s soft laughter never fails to make her nerves dance from her toes to her cheeks. “You should rest.”

“…I know,” Tifa’s eyes begin to droop, “but I wanted to hear your voice and let you know that I got home okay.”

And there’s so much to talk to him about… so much she doesn’t have the courage to say…

“Do you…” he pauses, “do you want me to just… tell you about my day? Until you fall asleep?”

“I… you don’t have to—”

“Tifa,” his voice caresses her name so sweetly that she almost believes that she’s dear to him, “I want to.”

Her heart flutters, all of her feels panicked, like her cells have stopped functioning, whirling around and around in disarray. The ocean of her thoughts has flooded into a hurricane she can’t control, and at the center of it all, is Cloud, her calm.

“…Okay.” She gives up. Surely, it’s okay to let herself have this? His voice, his comfort, his constant presence in her ear. They… they’re _something_ , even if Tifa hesitates to put a label on it. Something delicate but precious that Tifa wants to keep close to herself and hold always by her side. Surely, she doesn’t have name it yet? Surely, she can take comfort in what they’ve built so far?

They have time, she thinks. So much time to sort this unspoken thing between them.

“Go lie down,” he says softly, all background noise muting out.

She closes her eyes and drifts off to Cloud telling her about Yuffie ‘poisoning’ today’s dinner with a dye that made everyone’s tongues blue to test them all for infiltration. Her sleepy chuckles spurn Cloud on as his hesitant voice grows more animated when he tells her that Yuffie apparently didn’t have permission to test the whole base and was left to be yelled at by her superior officer.

“Sweet dreams, Tifa,” he says, as if he wants to say this to her forever. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She drifts off, her dreams filled with soft sunshine and warm smiles just for her.

:

In the morning, when Tifa wakes up, she smiles at the text she sees on her phone.

**Cloud:** Wanna do a call today? Your 6 pm, my noontime?

She doesn’t hesitate in typing out her ‘yes’ and after some thinking… she snaps a photo of herself, well rested with her morning breakfast of toast and fruit. Her hair’s still a mess and she’s still in her comfy blue pajama top that looks like the dresses she used to wear as a little girl, but the lighting makes her skin glow and her eyes shimmer. Before she can lose her nerve, she sends the photo to him with no captain. She’s not even sure what she would write out if she had time to think about it.

Then she tells herself not to think of what Cloud will reply. It’s nighttime in Wutai right now and friends send each other selfies all the time, right?

Several hours later, when she’s practicing her piano, he texts her back with one word, _Beautiful_ , and Tifa has to take a break to cover her burning face with her hands.

Another ping on her phone has her scrambling to open it.

Cloud’s face stares back at her, clearly done with someone else’s help. Just… Cloud sitting at the mess hall, his hair still tousled from sleep in a delightful way that makes her want to pet his spikes, and his eyes looking shyly at the camera along with a small smile that Tifa’s starting to realize comes so rarely with him. Her mouth goes dry as she studies the photo and she decides to save the photo to her home screen.

Just in case, she screenshots her new Cloud home screen and sends it to him.

**Tifa:** Now I can wake up to your smile! 😊

She sends the message before she can lose her nerve.

For several minutes, there’s no reply. Tifa tries not to let it bother her. Cloud probably has other things to do… maybe the text bothers him… She’s almost about to change her home screen back to a couple of cats when he sends her a screenshot.

It’s her photo.

If Tifa’s face was burning before, now she can’t even imagine being able to see through all the steam rushing to her face.

**Cloud:** Yours is better.

She spends the next five minutes spluttering incoherently.

:

They start calling more often, trying to make a schedule of it.

When Tifa has time off work, they call regularly at her six o’clock and his noon. But when Tifa’s in-between flights for work, they take whatever calls they can get with each other. Sometimes her job takes her to Spira, where she can be anywhere between one to two hours ahead of Cloud. Her breaks coincide much better with Cloud then and they spend several more hours discussing a book they’ve decided to read together online or sending each other new music to try. Sometimes she’s in Cocoon, eight hours behind Cloud and it’s agony waiting for his messages, waiting for the right time to call him.

Her flights to Wutai never have a layover there, with Tifa being rushed to go to Cocoon or back to Gaia instead. It’s a strange dance where Tifa and Cloud text frequently, sending each other photos and compliments that are just _friendly_ , not-flirting-at-all-thank-you-Aerith. They talk so often in between their breaks that Tifa feels like she could find Yuffie or Vincent on the street and know them instantly from Cloud’s stories alone. They talk so much that when something stressful happens at work, Tifa wants to call Cloud right away to talk about it but he isn’t always free in his time zone.

Sometimes Tifa feels like she lives on a different planet from Cloud, her orbit occasionally colliding with his again but never close enough for them to meet.

She feels greedy and selfish.

Only four months ago, she was content with just knowing him and texting. But now she wants more. She wants to see him, to be able to go to his place and watch movies together, to hold his hand when he’s stressed out by his superior officers. She wants to be able to visit Mrs. Strife with Cloud at her side, so that Mrs. Strife will stop looking so lonely when she leaves. She wants to hear his voice when he texts these incredibly smooth compliments of _you’re amazing, you’re beautiful, if it’s you then you can do it, Tifa._

This isn’t just a friendship, Tifa knows that.

But she can’t take the next step for fear of losing this.

They’re already so far apart, after all. What else but loneliness keeps them together despite the distance?

:

“You know, Tifa,” Aerith tells her after one of their shifts, “you seem happier. Whatever’s going on in your life to make you like this… you should hold on to it. I think he’s good for you.”

Flushing, Tifa looks away. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lies.

“Sure you don’t,” Aerith smiles knowingly.

“Really, there’s nothing but friendship between Cloud and I.”

“I _never_ said anything about Cloud Strife,” Aerith pokes her.

“Oh, alright, fine! What do you want me to say?” Tifa lugs her suitcase along, walking faster towards the exit. “That I have feelings for him? That I want to be with him? What would that change? He’s in the military! At the Wutai base! I’m away from Nibelheim seventy percent of my life! A long-distance relationship between us would never work, we’d end up hating each other and I can’t lose him too!”

Aerith stares at Tifa, eyes wide.

“I…” Tifa’s eyes burn. No, she’s not going to cry about this. She’s not that bothered by this, _no_. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“Hey…” Aerith’s gentle touch never fails to soothe her, “ _I’m_ sorry too. I shouldn’t have teased you about him, I didn’t know it was so serious…”

“Yeah…” Tifa stares down at her suitcase. “I… I didn’t know either.”

They both stand in the middle of the airport, hugging each other tight, listening to the other breathe as hurried passengers and pilots rush towards their flights.

“You know,” Aerith whispers against her, “maybe you _could_ make it work.”

“…Aerith…”

“Just hear me out for a bit, and then I’ll drop the subject, I promise. Tifa, you and Cloud text and call more frequently than any pair I’ve ever met, maybe even more than me and Zack. You always find time for each other, and if you don’t have time, you both _make_ time _._ What you have between you two right now… it’s _already_ a long-distance relationship, but without the kisses and sex. You’re already making it work.”

Tifa steps back, staring down at Aerith incredulously.

Her friend only winks up at her. “Just… think about it.”

“I… I’ll try.”

Aerith squeezes her hands. “That’s all I can ask.”

:

She thinks about Aerith’s words for three days into her break. Is she really so afraid of finding happiness that she’ll keep her heart locked shut for the rest of her life? Would a long-distance romance really be that bad?

And then she remembers all the times Cloud turned away from her when they were kids and she can’t relive that as an adult. Not when Cloud means so much to her now.

It’s okay.

She’ll be okay.

:

The call from Cloud, the day before she has to go back to work, startles her. Cloud rarely calls off-schedule, preferring to text just in case Tifa’s busy. Tifa’s the one always asking if they can do spontaneous calls off-schedule, since she has the more erratic schedule. Cloud’s more conscious of her schedule than she is, especially when she’s on break, not wanting to disturb her sleep schedule.

‘Your health is important, Tifa,’ he always insists, always coaxing her to sleep earlier.

Tifa answers right away. “Hey Cloud, is everything alright?”

She can hear his breaths, so heavy and ragged on the other end, as if he’s run a million miles just to make this call.

“Cloud?” she presses her headphones closer to her ear, holds her phone tighter. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“N-no… no. I’m… I’m fine, just… What about you? Are you alright? I saw on the news that there’s a storm coming for Nibelheim, and I just—I wanted to make sure that you’re alright.”

“A storm…?” Tifa blinks. Now that she thinks about it, there was a storm warning earlier but she had ignored it in favour of listening to music and reading. She gets up to peek through her curtains. The face of the storm slams against the windows, demanding to be let in with its raging rains and winds, and now that Tifa isn’t listening to music, she can hear its rumbles. “Oh. I guess I didn’t notice? I’m inside my apartment.”

“Good… _good_ … I… I’m glad…”

Her brow furrows. “Cloud… were you… worried about me?”

His silence is answer enough.

“ _Why?_ ”

“…You’re going to think it’s stupid. And creepy.”

“I could never think that about you.”

He sighs, a long shuddering sigh. “Do you… remember that storm? Years ago, before I moved away?”

Her breaths still.

“Yeah… I was an idiot, running into it. I got so angry at my dad, at everyone…”

“You almost died,” he croaks.

“You saved me.”

“I know,” he says hurriedly, “but I kept thinking… what if I hadn’t made it in time? What if another storm comes and Tifa Lockhart runs into it again, and I can’t find her?”

“Cloud…” Tifa feels as if a storm has been crammed inside of her, suffocating her throat and lungs, burning lightning into her heart. “What are you… trying to say…?”

“I dreamt of you,” he confesses, “all broken and mangled in the hospital. That was the last time I saw you. And I kept dreaming of you like that. I kept dreaming I was too late. I’d miss you and hurt for you even when we hadn’t even talked to each other that much. I’d call Ma every time there was a storm to check up on her… and on you. I know we weren’t close, but I had to know you were okay.”

The storm in Tifa’s heart floods it completely, drenching it in overwhelming rains that she can’t name.

“S-sorry… I know it’s out of line, and it’s creepy, and—”

“Cloud,” Tifa says slowly, “when we were kids… did you ever hate me?”

“What?!” he sounds so startled, “No! _No!_ I had the biggest crush on you!”

Her eyes go wide. “You… _did?_ ”

“Yeah… well, who wouldn’t?” Cloud mutters. “I was just too much of a loser to actually talk to you… and then… well…”

She tries to picture how he felt back then, so young and shy, so entranced by the girl next door. Always overthinking every little thing. She tries to picture his alarm when he spots that girl rushing out into a storm, to picture his desperation as a tree fell on top of her, his determination to pull her out. She thinks of what he must have felt, standing guard by her bedside at the hospital, only to find out about his mother’s financial problems… only to make the hard decision to move away and join the military.

The girl next door would haunt him then, no matter what he felt.

The girl next door would never be just a simple memory to him.

“And… now?” she finds herself hoping and fearing all at once, “Do you… feel the same way now?”

She’s not sure what she would do if he saw her as the same little girl. Tifa’s grown since then. She’s not the idealized vision in his head and he’s not the strange boy she once thought, now he’s so much more.

The splutters, Cloud being caught off guard, make Tifa feel a tiny bit vindictive for all the blushes Cloud has inflicted her with, until he answers, “No,” making her heart fall, “No, I don’t feel the same way like I did back then. It’s so much _more_ than a simple crush, Tifa.”

She inhales sharply.

“Sorry,” he quickly says, “ _sorry_ , you don’t have to answer. You don’t have to feel the same. I can never bring it up again, if you want. Just please don’t stop talking to me. I just wanted to tell you—”

“Let’s see each other. In person,” Tifa blurts out, “on my next break.”

Stunned silence answers her.

“You… you want to… meet up? _Really?_ But… but _why_ …?”

“Because,” Tifa gulps, steadying her frantic heart from drowning in the storm, “because there are some things that have to be said in person, and I… I feel _so much_ for you that I can’t put it into words, I need to see you and I need to… _I don’t know_ , I just need to see you before I decide anything else. Please.”

A pause. And then a groan that sends heat rushing all over her body, the storm in her heart takes in all of that heat.

“Tif… you’re not playing fair… When’s your next break?”

“Twenty days from now.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh.

“I don’t want to wait three weeks to see you. I want to see you _now_.”

Everything her storms to see him too.

“…I know,” Tifa whispers.

“…Video call?”

“I… yes, _yes_. I don’t know if I can say it over video call but I want to see you.”

He hurriedly requests a video call over their messaging app.

The rings on the app can’t possibly keep up with her frantic heartbeat, not until she sees his face looking back at hers, just as shrouded in shadow and baggy eyes.

But then Cloud smiles at her, and all of him lights up, all boyish and giddy.

“Hi,” comes the husky whisper.

“…Hi,” she says back.


	6. home is holding you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you suffer from cavities if you write too much fluff? a writer wants to know. thank you so so much for the lovely response, i love you all!!

Staring at Cloud right now feels… strange. Oddly intimate in the sense that she can’t help but be hyper aware of every flaw on her face but awestruck by his own. She wants to reach through the screen and cup his cheek, wants to see if he’ll lean in like she wants him to.

The storm outside, still raging with its relentless rain and thunder, booms in reminder of its presence. Tifa’s lights flicker slightly, vanishing away her face for a few seconds, like a magic trick, and she can see Cloud’s worried face, the way he tenses like he wants to jump through his own phone screen towards her.

“Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” she whispers, “just the power going off a little. Hopefully it won’t happen again.”

“God, I hope not.”

The sound of his voice lags a little behind his movements, slowed down like photo after photo being flipped down to make movement. She can see him, can see how much emotion he wears in his eyes, and yet the lagged movement only serves to freeze his worried eyes for her to study in blurred images.

“You’ll stay on the line with me?” he asks again. “Just… just so I know you’re okay.”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “of course, I will.”

She too used to fear storms, memories of her fall haunting her for years. But Nibelheim gets so many storms that the fear was trained out of her from exposure. She wonders how often Wutai storms…

They keep staring at each other, smiling, yearning.

“Sorry,” Cloud ducks his head down, “I wanted to say so much to you but now that I see you, I just… can’t stop staring.”

“Then don’t say it,” Tifa understands. “Let’s save it for when we meet again.”

“I know… I just… I miss you. Isn’t that strange?” Cloud runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve barely been talking for over a month and I miss you so much, even though we talk so much.”

“No, it’s not strange. I… I miss you too.” Maybe she’s missed him since the day he disappeared from her life, this possibility of _what-if_ that she’s been left wondering about for years and years until they saw each other again. Maybe they weren’t ready for this back when they were young, but maybe they’re ready now. Maybe they were always meant to find each other, no matter what time zones they ended up in.

They’re here.

“Just twenty days,” Cloud’s eyes shine.

“Yeah…” Tifa’s hand hovers over his smile on the screen, “just twenty more days.”

:

Something changes between them now that they’re video-calling back and forth, with facial expressions to accompany their voices. Before, Tifa felt giddy whenever she conversed with Cloud, but it didn’t matter what she wore or what she was doing. Now, seeing Cloud’s face smiling fondly as her fingers race over the keyboard makes her self-conscious of every micro-expression she has. What twitch of her lips will reveal her feelings first? Which smile?

She finds herself drinking in Cloud’s face, wanting to rake over every strand of hair, wanting to memorize the ways his shade of blue glimmers when he looks at her. She wants to keep his eyes on him, but can’t bring herself to dress up just for these video calls. Cloud needs to see the real her so that he can back out if he wants to.

Cloud seems to be of the same mind, showing up to the video-calls with stubble on his cheek or still wearing his oily uniform. Both of them keep revealing the uglier aspects of themselves, as if daring the other to flinch or look away, and yet they both keep looking.

Wanting.

Just another week and then they’ll see each other again…

:

Her fingers twitch. She nearly spills tea on herself in front of three passengers, only just catching herself in time before a big disaster happened on her outfit. Aerith and Nanaki have to catch her attention to do some of the PA announcements and she almost walks into Nanaki on the way out of her last shift.

“Steady there,” Nanaki laughs, helping to readjust her before she falls. “Save the falling for when you meet your Cloud again.”

Turning completely red, and unaided by Aerith’s laughter, Tifa stutters, “H-he’s not mine!”

“Yet,” Aerith sings.

Nanaki nods in agreement. Traitor.

“We’re… we’re…” Tifa doesn’t know how to describe what they are to each other. More than friends. Not quite lovers. Something in between. And yet something more. “Just… drop it, please. I don’t want to think about that yet. I’m meeting him right after this shift, his flight lands in an hour!”

“Wait, you’re meeting your boy in an hour?” Barret and Cid pop out of the plane next. “Do you need a ride back home?”

“No, it’s alright. We’re going to take the bus together. But thank you, Barret.”

He only nods. “Keep your phone on you, and your pepper spray. Let me know if you need me to rough him up.”

“Or if he needs to be poisoned,” Nanaki says innocently.

“Or thrown in the trash,” Cid adds.

“Or murdered!” Aerith finishes cheerfully.

“ _Aerith_ ,” Tifa hisses, “he’s your boyfriend’s best friend!”

“Details,” Aerith shrugs.

:

Waiting for Cloud’s flight to arrive, now that she knows that they are so close to meeting each other, makes her pace back and forth in her heels, uncaring if blisters dig into her ankles. The pain helps numb the anxiety bleeding into her. What if he doesn’t really like her, as she assumes? What if they’re making a mistake? What if they’re rushing this?

Tifa shuts her eyes and forces her heart to calm, a breath to soothe the storm there. Another breath to convince the storm to release the dark rains around her heart. The sweat on her palms has her pulling out another handkerchief to clean them. She wonders if her makeup looks drippy or her hair is a mess and has to stop herself from rushing to the bathroom to check again.

Aerith, Nanaki, Barret and Cid left fifteen minutes ago for their homes, making Tifa promise to call if anything goes wrong. Barret had looked relieved when Tifa told him that Cloud would stay at his own place while Aerith and Cid looked disappointed, paying up money to Nanaki.

“Just take it slow, okay, Teef?” Barret had hugged her. “No need to rush this.”

She’d curled closer into his hug, the feeling of being anchored to shore. Barret always understands her, even when he’s impulsive and temperamental, his soft heart shines through.

Now she repeats that advice to herself in her head as she paces back and forth. _Take it slow. It’s okay. Take it slow. It’s okay…_

“Flight 781 from Wutai City, Wutai to Nibelheim, West Gaia has arrived. Passengers currently disembarking,” the PA above announces.

Tifa grabs her suitcase, walking quickly to the arrivals area. She knows it will take a while still before she’ll see Cloud walking through the doors. He has to go through security and baggage claim, not to mention the line ups… but still she can’t help but hope every time someone new walks out of those doors. Families returning from vacations, business employees barking away on their mobiles, couples holding hands in exhaustion, family members being reunited after so many years apart, all of them walk through the doors with their own stories.

As these people walk out, all smiles or exhaustion, shoulders relieved from being back in the earth’s embrace, Tifa can’t help but think that reunions like these could inspire hundreds of paintings, millions of songs about love. Awful things happen all over the planet, and yet there are quiet moments like this, she thinks, where a single mother reunites with her family after years of separation, finally gaining citizenship in her country.

Her heart aches at the sight of such love and warmth, the good kind of ache, a kind that says _thank god I’m alive_ and that firmly loves people as they are.

It’s as she thinks this that her head turns, the sliding doors up front open, and out strolls Cloud, looking pale and miserable, but altogether whole and present and _here_.

Their eyes lock, and all other sounds and sights fade. The bustle of people around them, the announcements of flights landing and leaving, the roll of worldly possessions locked in cases… none of that matters. Only Cloud’s exhausted face staring at her like he can’t believe she’s there, only the way he lights up like sunlight glinting through the storm, and the next thing Tifa knows, she’s running towards him, suitcase forgotten. He’s running too, they’re being idiots, almost knocking into other people and forgetting to apologize, because, _because—_

They stop right in front of each other, as if blocked from the other by some invisible glass wall, just staring at each other hungrily, listening to each other’s breaths, watching the other blink. Real. Whole.

She should say something. Anything. Welcome him back, and yet she can’t help but blink back the dryness in her eyes, the surge of tears that wants to dance in his name. She thought she’d be able to say it, if she saw him again, for real. And yet, now that he’s here, she doesn’t know what to say. There’s so _much_ that she feels, that gets clogged up in her throat and her eyes and her chest.

It’s everything mashed up into a gross ball of awkward staring and she hates it.

And then Cloud takes her hand.

His rough calluses brush against the top of her hand, his thumb caressing the inside of her palm, all of it jolting Tifa to her core. He brings up their interlocked hands between them both, hovering so close to his heart, and tenses, those blue eyes pleading.

“Is this…” he hesitates, “is this okay?”

Oh.

It’s… it’s him. _Her Cloud_. That shy man who sought her out because of airsickness, who stuck by her side at a party full of people, who told her that her voice and her piano was beautiful. He’s here. He’s real. And he hasn’t changed.

Without another thought, Tifa throws her other arm around him, while their interlocked hands dangle out. She hears him suck in a breath, feels him steady them both. If her dear friends have been Tifa’s anchor, then Cloud is her island that she always wants to return to. He holds her close, breathing her in, and her him.

“ _Yeah_ ,” she says against his ear, “this is more than okay.”

:

They spend too long and too little holding each other, only interrupted by a well-meaning old lady who hands Tifa her forgotten suitcase. The old lady winks at them both, waggling her eyebrows, before she leaves, leaving Tifa and Cloud but incredibly red but pleased.

Neither of them say a word to each other, both agreeing to split the fare for a cab and get to Cloud’s home as soon as possible. They hold each other’s hands like it’s a lifeline, like they could create the red string of fate between them both so they can always find each other, like they’ll collapse if they don’t hold onto the other.

The cab comes quickly, and Cloud puts away both of their suitcases before shifting into the seat next to Tifa, reclaiming his hold on her hand. They both sit there in the back of the cab, glancing each other with silent smiles, their interlocked hands firmly between them. Time seems to pass so quickly because before Tifa knows it, the cabbie has them firmly in Cloud’s neighbourhood.

It’s been so long since she’s been back. The fire took out everything except her home and Cloud’s. The tree standing between their two houses is still there, branches growing so wide that it could connect the two houses together if the branches ever breached the walls. She can spot her old house’s worn red shingles and faded paint. Time has not been kind to it.

But Cloud’s house still looks new. Mrs. Strife always took good care of it, hiring the appropriate repairmen when needed and maintaining the garden with due diligence. In her absence, the autumn flowers have become overgrown. No doubt that after winter, the garden will need a patient new caretaker to prevent the weeds and flowers from overgrowth.

If Tifa closes her eyes, she can pretend that the new houses on the street aren’t there, that she’s back to a time when Mama was alive and Papa was a _real_ Papa like Barret. Not the bitter cruel man trapped in his own memories.

But when she opens them, she sees Cloud kneeling in front of her, the cab door open, his eyes always staring at her in concern.

For a moment, he’s not her Cloud, but the one that found her trapped under a tree in a storm, the one that did everything to pull her out and kept her against his shoulder. _You’ll be alright, Tifa, you’ll be alright, I’ve got you,_ that younger Cloud told her over and over.

She never knew that this standoffish boy could feel so much.

“You okay?” he asks, ready to carry her or back off if needed.

“Yeah,” she says, taking his hand again.

When she smiles this time, a joy that she hasn’t felt in so long smiles with her.

:

She’s never been inside the Strife residence before. The walls are decorated with floral landscapes—Mrs. Strife’s touch, no doubt—and the living room feels oddly empty. The shelves are sparse with a few books and an old television, rugged sofas with velvety red patterns, but nothing personal save for a single photo of Mrs. Strife and a younger Cloud on a side table. The kitchen looks empty too, cleared out when Cloud moved back in. It looks like a home waiting for its family to come back, still holding on to the bits and pieces of the past.

Having never ventured back to her old house, especially after selling it, Tifa wonders what it must look like now. Would the walls be painted differently? Would the walls still contain her mother’s ghost, and her father’s too? The happy man he once was?

She wonders what kind of smile she has on now, for Cloud to drop his things on the floor and hold her close like that. When he cradles her face in his hands, she can feel how carefully he wants to touch her, like she’s precious and more.

She leans her head in against his shoulder, closing her eyes.

If someone were to peer through the windows of Cloud’s living room, they’d see two people locked in an embrace, so close that they might start dancing to a sad song that only the two of them know. That’s what Tifa feels as Cloud slowly rocks her against him.

“…What are we?” Cloud asks softly, running his hands down through her hair.

She shivers and nestles closer.

“…I don’t know,” she says. Labels feel so constraining when what she feels for Cloud goes beyond tenderness and yearning. “I just… I just want to be with you. I _miss_ you, even when you’re not here and all I have is your voice. I miss you, even when we hold each other like this.”

He sucks in a breath. The air gorges on their unspoken feelings, on the _need_ between them.

“I want to do so many things with you,” he whispers. “I want to touch you when I can… because I’m allowed to… and I want you to touch me too, and be with me… because I want you to. I just… _is this okay?_ ” he asks, and she knows he’s asking about so much more.

Tifa’s never done this before, never gone over to another guy’s house and held him tenderly like this, never had that same guy ask her so sincerely if he’s allowed to be with her, allowed to touch her and cherish her like she deserves it. She’s never teetered so close to _falling_ before and felt so secure and afraid all at once.

She brings his hand back up to her face, and leans in close, a breath away from his lips.

“Cloud,” she whispers, “if it’s you… it’s okay. It’s always okay.”

His eyes go wide, his breath shutters.

And then she kisses him on the lips.

She’s never kissed someone first before, always on the receiving end of awkward kisses of dates she ends up rejecting. There’s something sweet in taking the first step, the dive into this addicting warmth between them. She kisses him again and again, until she has to take a deep breath and she stares up at his darkened eyes.

“Was that… was that okay?”

It’s like she flipped a switch with that kiss, and Cloud swoops her up in his arms. She giggles at his enthusiasm as he peppers kisses over her shoulder, while attempting to walk up the stairs. _Is this okay,_ each kiss seems to ask, when he lowers her to the bed. _Is this okay_ , his caress whispers as his hands skirt against her sides and under her clothes. _Is this okay,_ he keeps asking softly, worshipping her skin with kisses.

“Yes,” she repeats over and over, breathless and needy. “Yes, yes, yes,” she answers him as she responds with her own kisses and caresses.

They both fall into bliss.

:

In the morning, Tifa wakes to find her head against Cloud’s chest, with his arms wrapped protectively around her. A plush blue blanket has been draped over her shoulders, held there loosely by Cloud’s fingers over her. He snores softly, as quietly as he breathes, mouth slightly open. It’s so adorable that Tifa wants to reach for her mobile and snap a photo, but alas, they left most of their things in the living room in their rush to be together.

She studies his face for a little longer, smiling at how the sunlight peeking through the curtains highlights his bangs in borders of sunlight. Lying like this, unguarded, Cloud looks much younger… like a great weight has been taken off his shoulders. She wishes he could feel like that all the time.

With a huff, Tifa closes her eyes. She should be freaking out right now. Their third in-person meeting and they fell into bed together? She’s rushing things—but is she really, after months and months of pining over texts and phone calls? Here in his arms, she’s the most content she’s ever been.

For once, she doesn’t feel any nagging worries at the back of her mind—worries for her father, her finances, her loneliness when her friends depart. Cloud’s steady breaths and heartbeat are enough to distract her, ground her…

Tifa finds herself tracing the tattoos over Cloud’s chest… A pack of wolves rushing up to his shoulder. Each wolf seems to circle several names. _Mother. Zack. Vincent. Yuffie. Biggs. Wedge. Jesse._ All of Cloud’s precious comrades and family, his pack, the tattooed wolves following a fighter plane… the only object that’s nameless.

“That’s for my Da,” Cloud whispers, as Tifa’s fingers ghost to the top of his chest. She stills when she sees him awake. Cloud gives her a tired smile. “He was in the army too. Stationed at the same base that I’m at now…”

“…What happened to him?”

He stares up at the ceiling fan, watching it whirl round and round, while he squeezes her tight.

“He was a pilot,” he says, “and there was a bad mission. He didn’t come back.”

Tifa freezes, wanting to crawl into his heart and soothe it. “I’m sorry,” she says. She knows those words don’t help, she hated hearing those words when her mother died. But she can’t think of anything else to say. How futile words can be.

But he leans in to kiss the top of her head and she knows he understands.

“S’alright, I barely remember him. I was four, I think? And he didn’t come home a lot.”

“…Is he why you’re afraid of flying?”

Cloud laughs. “No, no… I just get terrible airsickness. But he is why I feel like… well…”

“Like anyone moment the people you love will leave you,” Tifa fills in, the same fears haunting her every night, the same memories of her mother.

He takes the time to swallow slowly and nods.

Suddenly, Cloud’s averse reaction to storms makes even more sense. To see your next-door neighbour, and… crush, nearly die in front of you could only solidify that fear.

“…I hate hospitals,” Tifa admits. “Every time I step in one, the smell overwhelms me… those white walls too… Everything about them…”

“Because of your mom…”

“Yeah…” Tifa nods. “I used to be afraid of making new friends, connecting with new people. I thought I’d be replacing her, I thought I’d be betraying Papa… He and I weren’t in a good place for a long time, I think… I think he’s still in that place.”

Cloud watches her carefully, listening.

“But then I met Aerith and Barret… I met Nanaki and Cid, Marlene and Denzel. They became my new family. And yes, I could lose them, and I’m still afraid every day of losing them, but they make things better.” Tifa stares down at the pack of tattooed wolves on Cloud’s chest. “They’re like that for you too, aren’t they?”

He reaches out to bring a strand of her hair behind her ear. “And now I have you… _right?_ ”

“Yeah,” she says breathlessly, “now you have me too.”

Slow and sweet, he kisses her forehead, then her nose, her lips. “Thank you,” he whispers in between each kiss. And somehow, every _thank you_ seems to say so much more.

:

“Cloud?” Tifa asks later, “Is your Dad the reason you joined the army?”

He pauses in the middle of setting up the table, while Tifa cooks up a breakfast with what little supplies they could grab on their emergency grocery run. “I… he’s part of it, yeah. Like I said, I did it to support my Ma, and my Dad’s superior officer, Tseng, offered me the job. So I just took it.”

She frowns at the monotonous and practiced tone in his voice. Cloud always sounds more animated when he talks about his friends, but not so much when he talks about his job. Oh, he certainly likes tinkering with engines and fixing things, but he’s never particularly enthused about the military itself. He always feels a little sad, to Tifa, a bit more muted in life.

“…Do you enjoy it?” she has to ask.

Cloud looks down at the plates.

“It’s a job,” he says carefully.

“…Have you…” She shouldn’t ask, and yet she can’t help but do it, “Have you ever considered leaving?”

He shrugs sadly as the smell of eggs wafts through the air. “I don’t know how to do anything else.” He turns to her with a shaky smile. “Stupid, right?”

“No!” Tifa puts down the spatula to go hold him. “Of course not! It’s okay to feel stuck, to feel like you don’t know what to do next. Take your time. If you stay in the army, I’ll still be here with you. If you decide to take up juggling or go back to college, I’ll support you too.”

His lips itch up.

“Take up juggling? Really?”

“Hey, I happen to be a very good juggler. I could teach you!” she winks.

“Should I start calling you ‘coach’ then?”

“Only if you promise to be a good student,” she laughs as his hands wander over her.

“Oh, I can be _good_ for you,” Cloud whispers.

Their breakfast gets burned, but neither of them mind.

:

The next few days are wonderful, spent over at Cloud’s home. They spend their nights together, of course, and spend their days retracing old haunts around Nibelheim.

“I used to go to the park every day, trying to gather up the courage to ask you to play,” Cloud admits when they pass by the old park-now-a-bowling-alley.

“Then you should have said ‘yes’ when I asked you to play instead of running away!” Tifa laughs, pulling him close.

He hums in agreement.

(With so many bowling allies, they also go bowling. But neither of them are particularly good at it.)

:

They spend their ten days together learning each other’s curves and scars, all their stretch marks and flaws. They spend their ten days together trying to figure out what they are to each other.

“So you’re dating then! I’m so pleased that you’ve become Cloud’s girlfriend, Tifa,” Mrs. Strife sighs contently when they both visit.

Both of them wince at the term ‘girlfriend.’ If they were younger, it would feel right. But as adults, the term feels a bit juvenile, not quite defining the intensity of what they are.

“She’s my Tifa, yeah,” Cloud says. “And I’m hers.”

Tifa relaxes into Cloud’s touch.

Her Cloud.

His Tifa.

They both like the sound of that much better.

:

Mr. Lockhart, ever trapped in his limited memories, barely pays attention to Cloud when Tifa tries to introduce him. He calls her Hiroko again, and Tifa tries not to break down in front of them both.

But Cloud stays by her side through it all. He doesn’t try to talk about it with her, doesn’t judge. He just holds her afterwards and lets her _be_.

:

“Do you still have your old car?” Cloud asks.

“No, I… I sold it to be scrapped. I considered replacing all of the parts again but everything’s so expensive. I’ll just save up for another used car, but it’s no rush. Barret drives me and Aerith home after our shifts now and we _tried_ to pay him for gas but he wouldn’t take it. So now we pay him with free food. Why do you ask?”

“Just forgot, that’s all… Say, should I meet Barret again now that we’re… well… _us_ , now?”

:

Meeting Barret again is interesting. Tifa spends the whole time pacing back and forth, getting up to make tea and then sitting down again when she realizes that she already made tea. Marlene and Denzel are welcome distractions, peppering her with questions about Cloud and her.

When Cloud and Barret finally return from outside, Barret’s whistling cheerfully and Cloud looks relieved.

“He really loves you,” Cloud tells her later. “I’m glad you have him to look out for you.”

:

Aerith’s over the moon, throwing _I told you so_ texts every hour she can. Zack, Cloud tells her, is much worse, cracking jokes about Cloud’s awkward attempts at flirting when he was younger.

:

It’s wonderful—it’s _terrible_ —how naturally they come together, as if they were always meant to mix their lives together.

Because it ends all too soon, and both of them have to go back to work, back to their separate worlds.

Alone

:

All around them, in Nibelheim’s airport, families hug one another and say goodbye. She sees students being waved off to go back to universities overseas, parents returning to their jobs in another land, grandparents lecturing their adult children eating well. Happy tears, sad smiles.

Cloud and Tifa stand just before Gate D, just before security check. They both stare at each other, as if that invisible glass barrier has returned between them, and suddenly they’re no longer allowed to touch, not even brush hands.

Tifa tries to soak in the sight of him, from head to toe, inside of herself. Cloud does the same for her.

“Well…” Tifa starts. “We’ll… we’ll text as usual. And video-call. Maybe I can visit you on base in the next two months… and… and when you get approval for time off again, we can do this again—”

Her words get cut off by Cloud’s arms engulfing her firmly against his heart.

“I’m sorry,” his voice chokes out, “I just… I just want to hold you.”

Everything she feels wells up in her throat, too much, all at once.

“Okay,” she says the only word that she can say, lest her true feelings escape her. “ _Okay_.”

All Cloud can do is hold her tighter.

:

Her bed feels so empty, even with all of the plushies on it, and her apartment feels foreign. Tifa lies back against her pillows and tries not to think about him.

:

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Aerith says knowingly, on their first day back to work. “Being away from him.”

Tifa thinks of how long Aerith and Zack have been dating and visiting each other, squeezing in precious time together whenever they can.

It’s only been a day and Tifa aches, like her heart’s been taken from her, and Cloud holds the key. She has no idea how she’ll stay smiling when he calls her later during their layover.

“How do you stand it?” she asks.

Aerith squeezes Tifa’s shoulder. “It’ll be hard. You’ll argue, get on each other’s nerves. You’ll wonder why you keep doing this sometimes, that maybe it’ll be easier to stay friends. But… you hang onto the good times, everything you love about him. You keep finding new ways to fall in love again. You compromise. You _make_ time happen. You remember what it’s like to be together, and when you see each other again… _God,_ it’s just… wonderful.”

The sappy look on Aerith’s face makes Tifa relax.

“Remember the good, right?”

Aerith leans her head against Tifa’s shoulder. “Exactly.”

:

Aerith’s right.

They do end up arguing sometimes. Nothing explosive, but colder and unspoken arguments. Cloud misses their calls sometimes when mandatory training comes up, and while Tifa knows it’s not his fault, she still feels hurt and lonely. She never says anything about it, but their stilted texts over the next few days haunt her.

Tifa misses calls too. She’s not a saint. Her father becomes more demanding when she gets off of work. Tifa has to choose between spending more time with her dad and talking with Cloud. Cloud’s never been fond of her father and it shows as he fills their video-calls with more silence.

They always try to make it up to each other. More calls schedule. More photos sent back and forth. More visits when they can squeeze them in.

But it’s hard to sleep alone, hard to be six hours away from each other, especially when they need each other the most.

Cloud calls her when he gets that paranoia again, his feeling about impending death, and Tifa talks him through it when she can. She can’t always get to the phone on time. Her days sometimes become his nights and vice versa. But she leaves recordings, soothing words and songs that he can carry with him. She hopes those can be enough even when all she wants to do is hop on the next flight to Wutai and hold him.

Tifa overworks herself when she worries, so much that she collapses and ends up scolded by Barret and Aerith for neglecting her health. She has to go to the doctors to get her blood work done, and then lectured again to watch her iron levels.

Cloud’s the last to find out about her fall… about three days after the incident, and he doesn’t talk to her for two days, so upset that she didn’t let him know.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she tries to say.

“But I _always_ worry about you, Tifa. Anything could have gone wrong and you’d be _gone_ …”

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner. You’re right,” she admits, realizing now what this incident meant for Cloud. Did Mrs. Strife find out about Mr. Strife’s death this way? Through a phone call? Another party? “Next time, I’ll tell you right away. Or if I can’t tell you, I’ll get Aerith or Barret to text you.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, before he nods, the bags under his eyes swollen.

“… I’ll see you soon?” she asks hopefully.

That’s what they say instead of _I love you_ or _I miss you_. _I love you_ is too much for them, the three words they can’t bring themselves to say yet, as if this thing between them will vanish if they say the magic words. _I miss you_ makes them too sad, too miserable to do work the next day.

 _I’ll see you soon_ becomes their mantra, their daily promises to each other, their reminder of the good things to come and the good things that have passed.

“…I’ll see you soon,” he replies with a tired smile.

:

( _You compromise. You_ make _time happen. You remember what it’s like to be together, and when you see each other again…_ God _, it’s just… wonderful._ )

:

She purchases the ticket to Wutai on impulse. Cloud’s always the one coming to Nibelheim, to visit his mother and Tifa. She’s never made the time to see him—it never made sense financially when Cloud has his own place in Nibelheim. In Wutai City, Tifa would have to book a hotel room and they wouldn’t have a lot of time together while Cloud is on duty.

Still, she purchases the ticket, because she has to see him, because she still feels horribly about the overworking incident and wants to apologize face to face, wants to hold him.

There are some things that have to be said in person, and she so dearly wants to see him.

So as soon as she works her last shift for the month, she’s on that plane.

Logically, Tifa knows they won’t get a lot of time together. Thirty minutes to an hour per day, at most. Tifa can’t afford to stay in Wutai City for longer than three days either. But even if it’s just thirty minutes, it’ll be worth it.

The longer Tifa stays on the flight, staring down at the ocean below, the more she frets. Will she be allowed to visit Cloud? Will he wants her there? Will she be a bother? Will his ‘pack’ like her?

These questions burden her until she gets off the plane and turns her phone back on.

The text and missed calls that she sees has her scrambling out of the airport without her luggage.

:

[ _You have 3 missed calls._ ]

[ _First message: Miss Lockhart, I’m calling on behalf of Lieutenant Strife, he suffered a workplace injury while fixing up a tank and you were listed as his first emergency contact—_ ]

[ _Second message: My apologies Miss Lockhart, I’m calling again on behalf of Lieutenant Strife, just in case you didn’t get this message, my call got cut off—_ ]

[ _Third message: —Lieutenant Strife—_ ]

 **Zack:** Hey Tifa, sorry to bother you. I know you must be sleeping over there in Nibelheim right now, but Cloud got hurt and he could probably perk up if he hears your voice. Just give me a call back when you get this.

:

Tifa bursts into Cloud’s hospital room, in Wutai City’s Shinra base, as soon as a medical officer points her his way after confirming her identity. She doesn’t bother asking the officer what happened, she just has to _see_ him.

“Cloud!” she calls out, “Are you alright? Where are you hurt?!”

She ends up staring awkwardly at Cloud’s broken arm and the little sling holding his arm in place. He stares owlishly back at her, jaw dropped, while the rest of the soldiers (his pack, probably) gape in confusion.

“…Tifa?” Cloud asks.

“Wow, that was fast, did she take a jet or something?!” a girl with short black hair, Yuffie most likely, exclaims.

“I told you to call, Lockhart, not fly all over here!” Zack exclaims.

“I was already on my way here when I was supposed to get the text, just—” She turns back to Cloud. “are you hurt anywhere else? The voice mail I got was really jumbled, I thought you had _died_ or worse—”

Still stunned and confused, Cloud slowly shakes his head. “No. Just… just the broken arm… a tank part fell on me…”

“Several tank parts,” a large man, likely Wedge, coughs.

Tifa makes a strangled noise.

“Alright then, everybody clear out!” another woman with a long ponytail, pushes all the men and Yuffie out of the tent. “Can’t you see they need some space? Sorry about them. We’ll chat later. I’m Jessie. Lovely to meet you. Please convince our resident chocobo-man to go rest at home.”

Tifa blinks rapidly. “I…”

“Alright, just shoo!” Cloud throws a pillow at her, face completely red.

Jesse cackles as she leaves.

Cloud and Tifa stare at each other awkwardly. They haven’t felt this awkward with each other since the first time they kissed.

Tifa breaks the silence first, throwing her arms around him carefully and briefly touching the cast. “Does it hurt? Do you need anything?”

“Not anymore,” he says. “They’ve got me on painkillers. I’m… not entirely convinced that you’re real right now.”

She kisses him slowly.

“…Alright,” Cloud’s eyes darken with hunger and longing. “I might need more convincing.”

“Don’t give me that!” Tifa huffs. “We might jostle your arm again!”

“…Worth it.”

“ _Cloud!_ ”

His boyish grin remains difficult to be annoyed with. Eventually, their banter calms and Cloud leans his head against her shoulder. “Tifa… what are you _doing_ here?”

Her voice falters. “I… I was going to visit you. As a surprise. And an apology. Definitely a huge apology. Now that I’ve experienced this… I’m _really_ glad you had Zack text me.”

His fingers reach up to grip her arm. “There you go again…” Cloud whispers, “always showing up when I need you. How do you always _do_ that?”

She hums quietly, thinking of the day he saved her, of the time she misdialed him instead of Barret. “I should say the same thing…”

“I’m sorry… you really didn’t have to come. Or apologize for anything.”

“Hey, Cloud, look at me,” Tifa says softly, cradling his face between her hands. “We’re _us,_ now, right? That means we have to take care of each other. You had a right to be mad at me. I should have told you when I collapsed. If it had been you, and you didn’t tell me… I’d have felt _awful_ , I realize that now. You’re so important to me, Cloud. You always have been. Even when we were kids, I was always looking for you. You’re _it_ for me, you know that?”

His eyes shine with so much feeling as he stares down at her in awe. He weaves his hand up to cup hers.

“Tifa…” he says slowly, “will you take me home?”

She kisses the inside of his wrist and murmurs against him. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”


	7. home is where you are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me till the end. Love you all!

“So you’re the childhood friend, then!” Yuffie sits in front of Tifa as Cloud goes to sort out paperwork for medical leave. Behind her stands a grim looking man that Tifa guesses must be Vincent. There aren’t any other men who fit the description of ‘tall, dark hair, with a red bandana, and skin like a vampire’s,’ if she goes off of what Cloud has told her of his friends. “I’m Yuffie, nice to meet you! This is Vincent!”

He grunts with a reserved smile.

“Wow, he smiled! He must like you already, huh,” Yuffie elbows him.

He glares at Yuffie but doesn’t deny the claim.

“I’m Wedge!” another man goes to shake her hand. “And this is Biggs, Jessie’s already introduced herself… and you know Zack already…”

Jesse winks while Zack grins wildly, clapping her on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Lockhart, even if it is out of the blue!”

“Are you really Cloud’s childhood sweetheart?” Biggs asks.

“Has his hair always looked like a chocobo?” Jesse adds.

“Do you like cats? I feel like that’s Very Important Information to know,” Wedge also says.

“Tell us embarrassing stories about him for blackmail!” Yuffie demands.

“I am… so sorry about them…” Vincent mumbles quietly to her. He tries to glare them into silence but to no avail. They are already immune.

Tifa can’t help but giggle.

“Sort of?” She tries to answer their questions in order. Did running away from your childhood crush count? “Yes, it’s pretty cute. Absolutely, cats are amazing but I can’t keep one, I’m too busy. And no, sorry. You’ll have to pay up for embarrassing stories,” Tifa thinks she has almost all the questions answered, “And I don’t mind, Vincent. Thank you.”

If this were a cartoon, Tifa would swear that everyone’s eyes sparkle as they stare at her.

“Um, what about all of you? How did you meet Cloud? Has he been eating properly lately? Sleeping okay?”

Everyone turns to look at Zack who nods, arms crossed. “See? I told you she’s a good one.”

Jessie and Yuffie attach themselves to Tifa’s side, hooking their arms around hers.

“Oh, it’s so good to have another girl around here! Do you do self-defence? Want us to teach you? Hmm, you’ve got muscle here, you _definitely_ work out. I love some muscle on a lady,” Jesse feels up Tifa’s biceps.

“W-wait,” Tifa turns red.

“No, she’s coming with me first! I can show her how to throw knives at anyone who attacks her! We can paint our nails too!” Yuffie says.

“Hey, I called dibs first!”

“That doesn’t count. I was trying to be polite! Fight me for her!”

“Here, these are photos of my sister’s cats,” Wedge brings up his phone, not helping with the situation at all.

The other men stay out of it, too afraid of Jessie and Yuffie.

“ _Alright, get your hands off my Tifa, right now_ ,” Cloud storms in, prying Jessie and Yuffie off of Tifa so he can put his free arm around her waist.

“No fair, Cloud! You get to visit her all the time and this is literally the first time we’re meeting her!” Yuffie shouts.

“We should keep her,” Jesse agrees.

“No one’s keeping Tifa! She makes her own decisions,” Cloud glares at them both, “and we already made plans to go back to Nibelheim together.”

“Boo!” Yuffie shouts.

Jesse, in the meantime, writes out her phone number on a piece of paper, tucking it into Tifa’s purse afterwards. “Call me,” she winks at her. “And if Cloudy ever leaves you and you’re looking for a rebound…” She gives Tifa a sultry look.

“ _Okay, everyone stop flirting with Tifa, out, OUT!_ ”

Despite everyone’s protests, Vincent and Zack help Cloud herd them all out of the visitor’s room. When the door shuts, Cloud sighs against it, murmuring, “I hate my friends so much.”

Tifa giggles. “No, you don’t!”

Cloud walks over to her so he can lean his head into the crook of her shoulder. “You’re right, I don’t. They…” he tenses, “they were okay for you? They liked you? You liked them?”

Tifa slowly cards her fingers through his soft spikey locks and breathes him in. “Despite only knowing them for less than an hour, I _do_ like your friends, Cloud. I’m glad you have them.”

His shoulders relax as he sags against her. “I’m glad too.”

:

They take the next immediate flight back to Nibelheim. Cloud offered to take Tifa sightseeing through Wutai but she assured him that they could make a date of it another time.

“Your health is more important,” she had told him, “Let’s just get back to Nibelheim quickly. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

His smile touched the warmest parts of her. “I know you will.”

During the flight back, he curls up against her, his head against her shoulder, and she keeps her arm over him. She’ll guard him from the nightmares the only way she knows how.

It’s strange, being on the same flight as him again, but as a fellow passenger. They’re always separated by time and distance, by planes and the military. Tifa’s used to a life in the in-betweens. To be a flight attendant is to be perpetually stuck in limbo, keeping track of your own time and hours. Where twenty-four hours pass normally for everyone else with the sun to keep track of their time, Tifa might end up with a nineteen-hour day where the sun has set way past when she should be sleeping. It’s like a form of time travel because of time’s arbitrary meanings, even if Tifa knows very well that’s not how time travel works.

Through all this time and distance, she and Cloud are finally on the same plane, to the same destination.

She curls her nose against Cloud’s hair and listens to his breaths.

:

Cloud stands awkwardly as Tifa takes their things out of the cab’s trunk. The cabbie, a guy named Johnny, eagerly steps forward too though Cloud frowns at him.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” Cloud frets, holding only one bag with his free arm.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. We’ll just have to make multiple trips up the elevator,” she assures him. “You’re already helping enough.”

“Still…” Cloud mumbles self-consciously, once the cabbie has left, “I don’t want to be a burden. If there’s anything I can do to help, Tifa. Just let me know.”

Her soul cries out at how little Cloud thinks of himself. He has so many people who love him and yet he can’t seem to love himself. He’s always living in this limbo of doubt and insecurity that he can’t see how he shines. Tifa sets the bags down in the middle of the lobby and places her hands against Cloud’s sling and the other hand carrying her bag.

“Cloud, I’m always alone. So you being here, coming to live with me for the next few weeks, is more than enough. _You_ are more than enough.”

His eyes shine when he stares back at her, so cautious and relieved.

Their kiss, as he leans in, speaks volumes about how they feel. They take their time, lingering too long and not long enough, trying to make this last. _Thank you,_ his kisses always say, _thank you for being with me, for existing, for choosing me, thank you, thank you, thank you—_

And her own kisses always say _I’ll catch you_.

When they both step back, Tifa grins against him.

“And if you’re that concerned about helping,” she teases, “I’m sure we’ll find you something to do.”

:

They settle into a routine so naturally that Tifa almost forgets what it was like to live alone, before Cloud. His awe about being in her apartment never goes away. He loves all of her personal touches around the apartment—the plushies, the paintings of the stars and the ocean on the walls, the collection of magnets and snow globes from around the world, her punching bag and piano.

“Your apartment feels like you,” he tells her, “so alive.”

But her apartment has never truly been alive, not like this, not before Cloud.

With Cloud, she wakes up to slightly burnt toast and eggs as Cloud sheepishly tries to take off her pink apron with one hand. With Cloud, she has someone sitting next to her when she practices piano, asking her what all the notes mean, joining in with the silence of music. With Cloud, she goes to sleep secure to the sound of his heartbeat and she never wants to leave.

Cloud tries to help out around the apartment every moment he gets. If there’s a task he can do with one arm, he’ll do it. The dusting, the laundry, washing dishes, he tackles them all with a careful concentration that is very him. Her neighbours, many elderly couples who Tifa rarely gets to converse with, are wary of him at first but quickly warm up to him when he helps fix up their dying electronics. He has a way with gears and screws, able to coax them back to life after some time consulting google and texts from Vincent. Soon he becomes the go-to handyman, able to fix old trinkets from grandfather clocks to jukeboxes to microwaves.

If there’s something wrong with the electrical wiring or plumbing, Cloud picks up on how to fix things quite easily. At first, he refuses any payment for these favours, but then Tifa and Cloud keep finding envelopes of money shoved under their door when they come back from a grocery run or baskets of homemade pastries by the front. Cloud doesn’t know what to do with so much praise, calming up with a blush, but Tifa doesn’t let him brush the compliments away.

“You’re really good at this, Cloud,” she insists, when he volunteers to fix up Marlene’s wind-up toy. “I have no idea how you do it.”

As always, he turns red from embarrassment and turns away.

“Just lending a hand,” he says, trying his best to use the screwdriver with his free hand while Tifa holds the toy in place.

“Seriously, Cloud. You could start a mini business doing this,” Tifa teases. “Helping people, that is. I see how you get when you’re fixing things… you enjoy it. Don’t try to say you don’t.”

He turns away to hide his little smile, the one she loves so much, with a sparkle in his eye.

She doesn’t see his thoughtful frown.

:

He’s more withdrawn after that conversation. No amount of Tifa’s homecooked stew or hamburger steaks will coax him out of his pensive state. Tifa tries not to panic. She goes over what she’s done in the past few days, if anything she said offended or upset him. She can’t think of anything in particular.

Maybe Cloud’s just in a mood. That happens when couples live together, right? Maybe Cloud’s mood has nothing to do with Tifa. But if that’s the case, she wishes he would talk to her about it. She’s here. She’s with him. They can do this together.

But Tifa doesn’t push the subject. They only have so much time left together, the weeks of Cloud’s medical leave ticking down and down. She can’t bear the idea of making more upset because she was too sensitive.

She’ll wait it out.

:

But Cloud doesn’t tell her what’s wrong. He goes out more often, to help the neighbours, to visit Mr. and Mrs. Fair. He always kisses her goodbye but those kisses feel so rushed and nervous that Tifa can’t help but feel like he’s slipping through her fingers despite living in the same apartment.

:

“Cloud?” she asks, about a week before her own requested leave will expire and she’ll have to return to work, leaving Cloud to go back to his own home in Nibelheim.

He shifts in bed, angling to the side so that they’re eye-to-eye. Lying here like this, it’s as if they’re the same height, as if they are on the same playing field in this thing-that-is-them.

“Yeah?” his voice sleepily meets her.

“Are we…” she hesitates, “are we going to be okay?”

His brow furrows as he puzzles out what she’s trying to say while Tifa feels her insecurity smashing against her heart, trying to bulldoze it into her ribs.

His fingers pass by the boundary between them, slowly smoothing out the tangles in her hair.

“Yeah…” He brings her lock of hair towards his lips, her string of hair connected to his lips. “ _More_ than okay.”

 _But are we really?_ she doubts, always eventually doubting.

He hesitates. “Are _you_ okay, Tifa?”

“I…” Her instinct is to smile and say yes. But whatever Cloud heard from her question, he answered with sincerity… and she can’t lie to him. Not with such a direct question. “I don’t know.”

She can see how his shoulders tense, like a wolf confronted with a storm, but she presses on.

“I guess… I’m just worried. About you. About us. I’ll be gone soon… and I… I’ll miss you. I don’t want us to be far apart again.”

A hush escapes her as soon as the words do, like shards of glass falling out of their hiding place, clinking on the floor.

And then he curls around her, and none of that matters, only Cloud’s protective hand against her hair, her face cradled against his heart.

“I know,” he admits, the thrum of his voice throbbing through his chest. “Sometimes… I can’t believe this is real… Both of us, here together. I keep thinking it’s a dream… I keep thinking I have no right to be here… that one day, it’ll all be gone…”

She tenses. She had no idea…

“But it’s only for a week this time, right? Then you’ll be back. And this time, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

She closes her eyes. “I know…”

But what about the times after that, neither of them say.

What will happen when Cloud’s arm heals?

:

She hates the word ‘goodbye’ now. To save money and time, Tifa goes to the airport alone. But she lingers in Cloud’s arms for several minutes too long and watching him stand in front of her apartment building, getting smaller and smaller in the distance, till he blinks out of existence, has her calling him right away so she can hear his voice until she has to get onto the plane.

“I’ll be back soon,” she tells him when her shift starts.

“I know.”

“Take care of yourself. Make sure to change your sling! I made you some soup that you can take to your house. Oh, and I left some banana bread for Mrs. Strife, she said she wanted to try some—”

“Tifa,” Cloud’s voice breaks into muffled laughter. “Breathe.”

“ _You_ breathe,” she finds herself retorting with a smile.

“I am. And _you_ need to go to work. I’ll be here. I promise.”

She takes a deep breath, seals those words into her heart to get through the day.

“Alright. I promise I’ll here too, if you need _anything_. Just call.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

“You should hang up now.”

She stifles back a smile-cry. “I really don’t want to.”

“…Leave our phones on until our connections have to be shut off?”

“Yes. Please,” she says quickly. It’s silly, she’s like a child holding onto a security blanket despite knowing that the blanket won’t really protect her. But it’s warm and it’s hers and she refuses to let go. “I’ll hang up when the plane has to take off.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

:

Work feels like a new kind of agony, ironically unbearable now that Cloud’s so close to her apartment, now that she’s experienced being together with him for so long. She wonders if other couples feel like this? How can they bear it? Living and functioning for so many days apart, like living without half of themselves, like their hearts are forever bleeding out until they reunite with their special person?

She finds a newfound respect for Aerith, even higher than the respect she had before. Aerith’s always smiling, so cheerful and sun-like, and yet, she also yearns for Zack, for the next time she can hold him.

“Awful, isn’t it?” Aerith sympathizes when Tifa has to take a quick break for herself at the plane’s kitchen. “The first time after you’ve really connected is always the worst.”

“…Why is it like this?” Tifa wonders. “I didn’t feel nearly as horrible the last few times.”

“…Because you were playing house,” Aerith says bluntly, “and you liked it.”

She freezes. “I… We aren’t _playing_. We’re…”

They’re in love.

Tifa shoots right up, eyes wide. They’re in _love_. Not the kind of love that’s lust at first sight and sweeps you up in throes of lust and physicality, but the kind of love that waits and settles in, content to do grocery runs and settle back with a book, content to wash dishes together and curl up for hours. It’s the kind of love where he texts her updates on her father’s health condition, because of course Cloud would visit her Dad even when he doesn’t have to, and she’s so scared that he’ll leave her because of her baggage but he’s still there and her dad even tolerates him during his good moods. It’s the kind of love where Mrs. Strife keeps telling Tifa to call her ‘Ma’ too, but Tifa’s too shy to do it, even if she’s so pleased that Cloud wants to share his mother with her. It’s the kind of love where uncertainty creeps in, and still, they’re together because they trust each other, and they want to keep trying—

She wants this. Forever.

“I… I have to call him,” Tifa paces back and forth. The plane will be landing soon. She can rush out after the passengers have left.

“Tifa,” Aerith stares at her as if she’s started walking on her hands. “Tifa, you don’t need to call him. He’s going to be picking you up, remember? This is the flight back to Nibelheim.”

“No, but, I have to make something for him. Quickly. I have to… I have to show him how I feel—”

Aerith’s eyes go wide. “Alright, tell me everything, girl. Nanaki and I will cover you.”

:

Tifa practically flies out of the plane when it’s time. Aerith and Nanaki help her sneak out of the airport, Barret and Cid stalling Cloud for a bit, while Tifa goes to get her task finished. It doesn’t take long, no one really goes to get this sort of thing made near an airport so late in the evening. When it’s finished, Nanaki drives like a maniac to get Tifa back to the airport and she rushes through the doors to see Cloud getting more and more exasperated by Barret and Cid’s antics.

“Cloud!” she calls out.

He turns to her in surprise, the sling is gone, and his arm is held against a soft brace. But he can somewhat move it now. Not his fingers, not quite yet. He’s holding a bouquet of yellow lilies for her, and she nearly crushes them as she rushes into his arms.

“Tifa, _whoa_ ,” he staggers back at the force of her against him. Behind them, Barret and Cid move back to join Aerith and Nanaki by the side, giving them privacy. “Are you alright?! You look like you’ve run a marathon—”

“I kind of did,” she gasps, stepping back so she can look at his eyes.

Cloud’s brow furrows. “Wha—”

“Wait,” Tifa says. “I have to give you something. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”

“Tifa—”

She pulls out a key, the key to her apartment, fastened onto a strong but thin metal chain, and holds it out in her palm.

Cloud immediately goes quiet.

“…It’s for you,” she says.

The silence stretches on. The bustle of the airport fades to the back of both their minds.

“I… I want you to move in with me. If you want. I… I’ve never felt like my place was a home. It was just… somewhere I could sleep and eat, my own space. But it’s never been a home. I haven’t had a home since Mama died, but you… you brought ‘home’ back to me… Not like my old one, but a new one, that’s you and me, and I just… I love you. I love you so much that I want us to be each other’s homes. Please.”

He stares at her, eyes wide, lips parted. He stares at her for so long that Tifa falters, her hand trembling.

“Oh. Do you…? Maybe this was too fast. I didn’t… I mean… please don’t feel pressured to—”

His hands grab hers, enveloping them and the key completely. Cloud frantically shakes his head. Then nods. Then shakes. “Tifa, wait. No. That’s not what I—just… _follow me_ , first? Okay?”

Numb and frazzled, Tifa has no choice but to follow along as he tugs her towards the doors, then the curb, where Mr. and Mrs. Fair, along with Mrs. Strife are waiting…

…In a little blue car, so shiny and new, so familiar and once-broken.

Tifa’s knees almost give out.

Mr. and Mrs. Fair spot her in the distance and wave excitedly. Mrs. Strife gives a knowing smile and wink. She mouths something to Cloud, who suddenly steps in front of Tifa, fingers digging into her shoulders.

“Do you _see_?” Cloud can’t hold back his grin. “We had the same idea.”

Tifa gapes at him, peeking out to see the car, then Cloud. The car, then Cloud. “How… when…? _Why…?_ ”

He gives a sheepish smile. “Well… Mr. Fair and Zack kept your car… and I’ve been slowly buying up parts to replace the old ones… Then when I broke my arm, I had more time to work on it personally…”

All those times Cloud stepped out to visit Mr. and Mrs. Fair…

“You…”

“I know the car means a lot to you. I can’t fix what makes you sad, Tifa. But I can fix this for you. I… I love you too,” he stumbles on the words, clutches her tighter. The roar of traffic outside, the sound of cabbies shouting out to customers, can’t drown out his words.

She wants to laugh at how stupid and dramatic they both are. To think, they both had the same plan, the same confession.

“I… I also want to be your home, Tifa. I want to be the first person you turn to when things go wrong. My military service lasts two more years, but, if you’re okay with waiting for me, let’s… let’s make a home together. Is that… is that okay?”

Tifa stares at him in disbelief for a moment before she chokes out a laugh, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Are you kidding me?” she breathes as his arms close around her waist. “Didn’t you hear my confession earlier? _I love you_. Of course, it’s a yes!”

She’s home now.

They both are.

**Author's Note:**

> My Cover art for this fic is [here](https://youlighttheskyart.tumblr.com/post/622677468781887488/cover-art-for-my-fanfiction-landing-home)
> 
> Art by Guardianbunnie which really convinced me to write this fic [here](https://twitter.com/bunniemacaron/status/1263636168714977282)
> 
> The theme song of this fic would be "Say it Again" by Frances. Though honestly it should probably be "Jet Lag" by Simple Plan ahaha.
> 
> Always happy to get prompts at my [twitter](https://twitter.com/youlightthesky1), my [writing tumblr](http://youlighttheskyfanfiction.tumblr.com/), or my [art tumblr](https://youlighttheskyart.tumblr.com/) I also have a [ pillowfort ](https://www.pillowfort.social/youlighttheskyfanfiction) now where I will put more reflections on my teaching and writing. Aka, what my writing tumblr should have been ahaha


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